MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 



BY 



W. H. H. GREER. 



IK ADDITION TO >V H I C H ABB 



\F©^\^ \P^©^E \P@\ 



KN TITLin 



MAN," "EVENING MEDITATIONS," "HONOR" 
AND "UNIVERSAL LOVE." 



The Muse hatli my companion been 

At morning, noon, and night. 
While Nature spread her varied scene 
Before my youthful sight : 
And while my heart hath felt the powers of Love,— 
That angel from the realms of light above, — 
Despair, at times, with horrible control. 
Hath flung his garb infernal round my soul. 



PITTSBURGH: 

PRINTED BY W. 8. HAVEN, CORNER OP MARKET AND BEOOND STREETS. 

18 58. 



^ 



/ 



1^7 



INDEX. 



Stanzas, ...... 

Solemn Truths, 

One lonely hour, . . 
The Brush Ridge Camp-meeting, . 
Musings on the Brush Ridge Camp-ground, 
Lines to a Dove, ..... 

The Lark, ...... 

The Soul, . . . . . 

Written at the grave of a favorite young Lady, 

Farewell to a False young Lady, . 

A Scene on one of the Alleghenies at Day-break 

The Lost Brothers, 

Religion and Gold, .... 

Stanzas to an absent young Lady, 

Monongalia, ..... 

To a Young Lady, 

A Prayer for the Penitent, 

The old Log Church, , 

Death of Mrs. Caroline H. Hawkins, 

To ''Helen," .... 

The Christian's Request, 

A Tribute to the Memory of Miss Margaret 

A Mountain Storm, 

A Song, 

Hymn — Love Divine, 

Yerses, written at visiting the Grave of A 

Spring and Childhood, . • • 

A Song, 

The Dedication of Mt. Tabor Church, 

[iii] 



L. 



G. W 



13 

le 

19 
19 
23 

27 
31 
32 
35 
37 
89 
43 
46 
48 
51 
54 
57 
59 
62 
64 
67 
69 
73 
76 
78 
81 
88 
85' 



IV 



1 iN i> E X 



A Song, . 

A Song, 

The Death of an Old 

To N . . 



Man, 



To Margaret, .... 

Mother, Home, and Heaven, . 

A Prayer, .... 

Elegy, .... 

The Atheist, .... 

On the Death of a Young Lady, 

A Song, ..... 

The Drunkard, 

Musings of a Sinner, 

Song of the truly Pious, 

Give me Solitude, 

The Thunder Storm, 

The Lover's Address to his Lady, 

A tribute to the Monongahela River, 

To Harriet, 

A Song, 

To J. S. L. 

An Evening in May, 

The Blasphemer, 

To J. B. W. . . 

To W. H. H. Greer, . 

To"J. B.W." . 

Scene in a Grove, 

Stanza, 

When I am gone, 

To H. B. D. . . 

To a Winter Wren, 

Carrier's Address — 1851, 

A Song, . 

To"G. C. S." . 

Acrostic, . 

Carrier's Address — 1852, 

Verses, on the Death of A. D. S. and 

Religion, 



Mary, 



his wife, 



92 
95 
100 
104 
104 
106 
110 
112 
118 
121 
123 
128 
131 
133 
135 
138 
142 
145 
150 
152 
154 
157 
159 
162 
165 
167 
170 
174 
175 
177 
180 
183 
190 
192 
193 
194 
201 
204 



INDEX. 



V 



A Song, . 

To a Swallow, 

Despair, 

Remembrances, 

A Beautiful Scene, 

Stanzas, written in a public place 

Slavery, 

A Song,' ... 

A Song, . 

To an aged Friend and Poet 

To "Nehemiah," 

Farewell Lines to "Nehemiah,' 

To J. J. A. R , Poet, 

The Death of a Youth, . 

Despondency, 

To "Venicia," 

The old Church Yard, 

They pass away, 

A Song, 

Stanza, .... 

The Death of James R. W 

Taylor, 

Hymn, 

There is a Brighter World, 

Morning, . 

Love's influence, 

A Balm for my Heart, 

Liberty — Slavery, 

The Departed Companion 

To a School Mistress, 

The Lover to his Intended, 

A Song, 

To , 

The Rescue, 

The Victims of the Storm, 
The "Knob," 

The Death of a Young Girl, 
To the one whom it suits, 
a2 



PAGE. 

205 

208 

209 

211 

213 

216 

217 

217 

221 

223 

227 

229 

231 

232 

235 

236 

239 

241 

243 

245 

245 

248 

252 

253 

255 

258 

259 

259 

264 

266 

268 

272 

274 

277 

279 

282 

283 

285 



VI TNI>EX. 








PAQK. 


The Broken-hearted Lover, .... 287 


The Woods, 


290 


Stanzas, ...... 






. 291 


Pray, 






294 


A Song, 






. 295 


A Scene, ..... 






296 


The Celebration, .... 






. 302 


The Path of Duty, 






306 


A Sinner saved from the jaws of Death, 






. 308 


There's Beauty everywhere. 






310 


Song of the Bridegroom, 






. 311 


The Camp Meeting, 






312 


Integrity — A burst, .... 






. 314 


The Reformer, .... 






315 


Doctor Z. . 






. 316 


Kemember the Captive, . 






320 


My Native Place, .... 






. 323 


I love to see, .... 






324 


To Dr. Z 






. 324 


Sarah, ...... 






326 


Beauties of Nature, .... 






. 327 


Love, ...... 






327 


To Time, 






. 330 


Brownsville at sun-set. 






331 


Verses written on a blank leaf, &c. 






. 334 


"Remember Me— M. J. L." 






335 


Verses written on a blank leaf, &c. 






. 336 


To , 






337 


Hope, 






. 337 


Autumn, ...... 






338 


Where is Pleasure found, . . 






. 339 


Parted forever, ..... 






340 


I love the Mountain's rugged steeps, 






. 841 


Man, 






343 


Evening Meditations, r . . . - 




. 349 


Verses, inscribed to R. W. & A. M. Jones, & 


B. . 


353 


Honor, 


. 354 


Universal Love, 




. 


361 



PREFACE. 



It has been with considerable hesitation that we have con- 
sented to give the present volume of Miscellaneous Poems 
to the public ; for we have always thought our compositions 
so mutilated by imperfections, that they were unworthy of 
public perusal. But, being ardently solicited by numerous 
individuals of both sexes, we have, at last, agreed to have 
them published in their present form, hoping that they may 
meet with a cordial welcome from those into whose hands 
they may fall. Our country is literally flooded with books; 
and when we think that so many authors, far superior to 
ourself in wisdom, have gone before us, we feel like retir- 
ing into the shade of our own insignificance, and yielding 
our claim to public attention. Though, notwithstanding 
the vast number and variety of books scattered throughout 
Christendom, there are thousands living in absolute igno- 
rance, principally on account of not being encouraged in 
the acquisition of that knowledge which alone can render 
them happy, and make them useful citizens. We have, 
generally, selected such subjects as cannot fail to interest 
and instruct. 

We expect criticism ; and we shall feel truly thankful to 
any person who may advance a criticism with a view to 
enlighten. Many, who undertake to criticise authors, 
instead of giving an impartial exposition of their effusions, 

[ vii 1 



VIU PREFACE. 

and of setting forth their merits in their true light, indulge 
in the most ridiculous language, and endeavor to destroy 
their reputation by pouring upon them torrents of bombas- 
tical animadversion. But we have resolved, that in our 
career as an author, we will go forward feeling unintimida- 
ted by censure, and unexalted by panegyrics or flattery; 
though we shall throw our heart open to receive instruc- 
tion, from whatever source it may come. 

Dr. Spring makes the beautiful remark, that "poetry is 
a fire that is enkindled at the living lamp of nature, and 
glows only on a few favored altars." Whether our flicker- 
ing taper has been lit at the "lamp of nature" or " enkin- 
dled" at the torch of art, we have not the presumption to 
assert; but this much we know, that our heart has long 
been warmed by some mysterious influence, and song has 
been our chief delight. 

While the critic scans these humble emanations of our 
mind, let him take into consideration our youthful age; 
and further, that he is unacquainted with the circumstances 
which gave rise to the thoughts herein contained. Somo 
of our effusions have been written on the mountain top, 
and some in their sequestered vales: others have been 
penned in the silent hours of night, as we rambled, all 
alone, through the fields, while the moon was sailing in her 
silent grandeur over the world : some have been sketched 
amid the bustle and confusion of a jostling multitude, and 
others while the midnight storm went thundering in its 
anger across the earth. The shortness of life, the certainty 
of death, and the fearful realities of eternity, have ever 
been before our eyes, whether moving in the circles of 
society, or alone in solitude and meditation : frequent men- 



PREFACE. IX 

tion of the above will be found throughout the volume. 
Most of the songs, also found among the poems, were writ- 
ten at the request of different individuals : they are all of 
a moral caste. 

Being brought up among the wild old hills of Jacob's 
Creek, in Westmoreland county, Pa. where the scenery, 
continually presented to our view, was of such a character 
as to breathe into our mind a peculiar inspiration, at a 
very early age, many of the ideas embraced in the following 
pages — perhaps some of the best — were conceived and 
began to live. Though then in embryo, they have been 
swelling towards maturity with each succeeding year. We 
loved to ramble alone through the solitary woods, look upon 
the beauties of nature, and study the disposition and incli- 
nations of our own heart, while others thought we were 
wasting our "golden moments" in idle dreams. Chil- 
dren should never be discouraged from meditating — never ! 
Parents, never reprove them for inclining to be alone. 

We have frequently been charged with plagiarism ; but 
it has invariably come from the ignorant and the envious. 
We have defied such persons to refer us to a single instance 
wherein we had quoted from other authors without due credit, 
and they have totally failed to render satisfaction ; while 
they persisted in the declaration that they had read many 
of our effusions long before we were born. And now, we 
throw this permanent challenge into the face of the world, 
to point us to a single sentence quoted from the pen of 
another, uncredited. We may be guilty, but if so, we are 
unconscious of the fact. By reading the productions of 
others, and meditating upon their ideas advanced, it is an 
easy matter to imbibe them into our minds, and finally 



X PKEFAOK. 

endorse them as our own. When we hear or read the doc- 
trine of others, which harmonizes with our own sentiments, 
how naturally they seem to flow into, and become a part, of 
our mental structure. It has been said by some, that there 
is nothing original at the present age of the world ; that we 
gather all our knowledge from those who have lived before 
us. Be this as it may, we are not afraid to venture the 
assertion, that there are many ideas embraced in this volume, 
which no other brain ever did, or ever would have conceived. 
We have aimed at originality, both in style and thought ; 
how far we have accomplished our design, our readers are 
left to decide. 

The treasures of classical lore have been almost totally 
hidden from our grasp, and improvidence has thrown many 
a frowning barrier in our way ; we have caught occasional 
glimpses of the hill of science, and sometimes fancied we 
could see a laurel wreath upon its summit for our brow ; 
but alas ! while struggling for the sublime ascent, and pant- 
ing for the glories of its attainment, the clouds of misfortune 
have gloomed it from our vision, and the sands of a dreary 
wilderness were drifted in our face by the blasting winds of 
adversity ! 

Most of our poems are of a descriptive character. This 
course has been chosen in order that we might be original ; 
and not follow the channel that so many have traversed, 
until their fruits have become insipid to the reader's taste, 
and the music of their harps dull and dissonant to his ear. 
Scenes, that thousands have witnessed with ourself, we have 
celebrated in verse, and give them to the public as true 
descriptions of what transpired : of course we have used 
our poetical license. 



PREFACE. XI 

As a lengthy preface is generally considered unneces- 
sary ; and as we have, perhaps, protracted ours to a tedious 
length, we will cut it short, trusting that our pages may 
receive an impartial perusal, and that some good may be 
accomplished by our labors. 

W. H. H. GREER. 

BKOWN8VILLE, Pa. Aug. 10th, 1853. 



GREER'S POEMS. 



Stttll(5tt8. 

Come, happy Muse ! with glowing wand of fire, 
And touch and warm my heart as with a beam 

From Inspiration's altar; nor retire 

Until I've sung my contemplated theme 
That elevates my mind ; 'tis not a dream 

Of idle fancy, light, unreal, vain, 

But one that asks of eloquence a stream 

More lofty than my anxious thoughts can gain ; 
But pure emotions ask my harp's sublimest strain. 

Brush Ridge! I love thy pleasant vales and hills, 
Thy slopes and lawns, and wild sequester'd bowers, 

Thy verdant meadows, and thy crystal rills. 

Along whose banks I've gambolled many hours, 
There twining into wreaths the odory flowers ; 

And, charmed with sounds of vernal harmony, 
I've shouted o'er thy lonely woodland towers. 

As busy in my sportings as the bee. 
As merry as the lark, and as the wind as free. 

li [ 13 



14 



GREER'S POEMS. 



Among thy stately hills I had my birth, 

And 'mong them was I reared : no wonder, then, 

Thou art the dearest spot to me on earth, 
Though I may never visit thee again 
To roam about my former haunts ; but when 

I wander far away o'er sea or land 

Alone, or mingle in the busy scenes of men. 

Whilst I exist, affection's golden band 
Shall link me to thee, and my warmest love demand. 

Some, who were my companions then, are where ? 

Passed, in their childhood, to a brighter sphere, 
Where pain nor trouble never come, nor care ; 

Some breathe the western air, and chase the deer 

And buffalo o'er the prairies; others steer 
Their course in different climes ; but still a few 

Remain, unchanged, to greet me back, and cheer 
My melancholy heart, and stir anew 
The love of youthful years, — the love forever true! 

I feel a throb of melting tenderness, 
At thinking of my faithful parents' love 

That guided me, when in life's wilderness 
I started forth a dangerous path to rove : 
Nor time, nor change, nor age, can e'er remove 

The love for them that burns within my breast : 
It is a truth that must forever prove 

A boundless source of pleasure and of rest. 
To know that I have been with pious parents blest. 



GREER'S POEMS. 



15 



My mother taught my lips to speak the truth, 
When I, a child ^ did prattle on her knee; 

And when I grew to be a roving youth, 
Her kind instructions still directed me 
In safety over shppery paths : to flee 

The wiles of wickedness, and turn away 
From rude companions and their vanity, 

My father warned me oft ; which, every day, 
Shall be a pilot to my feet where'er I stray. 

It seems as if I cannot cease to sing 

Of childhood and its pleasures ; but, alas ! 
I'm forward borne on time's electric wing 

Toward the tomb, and shortly shall I pass 

Into oblivion, noteless as the grass. 
Each breeze that flutters o'er me seems to tell, 

In mournful whispers, that among the mass 
Of hfeless human clay I soon must dwell 
Inanimate — my spirit live in heaven or hell ! 

The immaterial and immortal part 

Of what I am, at death, I trust, shall blend 

Its joyous theme with angels, and athwart 
The blooming fields of bliss its wings extend 
In beatific, curbless flights, and spend 

Eternity in contemplating God 

And all his wondrous works ; and still ascend, 

With rapture, up Perfection's shining roadj 
Accompanied by the saints who throng the blest abode. 



16 



GREER'S POEMS. 



There is a special beauty in the thought 
That man may live forever if he will, 

Though in the grave, for centuries, may rot 
His "earthly tabernacle," till the shrill, 
Terriffie voice of Gabriel shall thrill 

The dead and living worlds, and bid them rise. 
How few do strive to save their souls until 

The clutch of death, in grim and wild surprise. 
Fastens upon their frames and dims their starting eyes I 

There is a horror in the thought, and, oh 1 
How pressing, too, that if men disobey 

The laws of God through life, that they must go, 
At death, to dwell 'mong devils damned, and stray 
Through everlasting fires, where not a ray 

Of hope can ever reach them. 0, may I 
Be charmed by love divine along the way 

That leads to heaven; and when I come to die,^ 
Be borne by angels up, to live with God on high.. 



Sofemn ^rutOs. 

What is Time? an ocean wide— - 
A dark and stormy sea. 

That bears the world upon its tide. 
To vast eternity. 



GREER'S POEMS. 

What is Man? a wandering mite 

Of animated clay, 
Whose home must be eternal night, 

Or everlasting day. 

What is Life? a fleeting dream, 
That soon is past and gone, — 

A rolling, dashing, rugged stream. 
That rushes on — right on. 

What is Death? a monster pale, 
With grim and dismal face. 

That all mankind will soon impale 
Within his cold embrace. 

What is Hope? a cheering spark. 
At which we fondly stare; 

Without it, all were lone and dark. 
And wrapped in deep despair. 

What is Love? a holy balm. 
Designed to make us blest; 

A gentle, soft and soothing calm. 
That lulls the soul to rest. 

What is Peace? the spring of life. 
That makes our journey even ; 

It caste th out contention, strife. 
And points the soul to heaven. 

b2 



17 



18 GREER'S POEMS. 

What is Truth? an heir of light^ 
A child of heaven alone; 

As God immutable and bright, 
And lasting as His throne. 

What is Faith? the Christian's eye, 
By which he can behold 

A crown for him beyond the sky. 
And palms of glittering gold. 

What m Pride? a luring thing 
Enrobed in black deceit, 

That pierces each with poison sting. 
And snares unguarded feet. 

What am I ? ah, shocking truth! 

A worm, a tear, a breath, — 
Just left the flowery walks of youth. 

And running swift to death! 

What is Hell? Jehovah's ire — 
The vengeful wrath of heaven; 

The dark, sulphuric pit of fire. 
Where burn the unforgiven. 

What is Heaven? the home of God, 
Of angels, love and light; 

Oh, yes! it may be our abode. 
If we but live aright! 



aREER'3 POEMS. ^^ 



Due Eouefi) ijour. 

There is more pleasure in one lonely hour 

Spent in the shady wood, where melody 
Floats on the breeze that fans the blooming flower, 

Than in the gaudy halls of revelry. 

Where songsters warble from each leafy tree 
The sweetest strains of nature's praising song, 

Or where the stars smile from the canopy, 
Or where the crystal streamlet flows along, — 
There is more real joy than with the busy throng. 



Z^^ ;Brusf} Jli&gc (i:ttmp 31Icctino; 

HELD AUGUST 10, 1851. 

The tented grove! 0, how my bosom swells 
With feelings strange, yet marvellously grand. 
While memory fondly lingers there, beneath 
The airy umbrage of the spreading oaks. 
Whose leafy branches hundreds canopied! 
On one of old Brush Kidge's breezy hills, — 
Most sacred to my heart from childhood's dawn, 
For there my intellect tuition first * 

Received; and there I erst began to love 
My Httle school companions, who, like me. 
To riper years have grown, and scattered out 



20 



GBEEB'B P0EM8. 



By Fate's unsparing cast, like chaff before 

The ruthless hurricane, upon the sea 

Of life, to toss athwart its surging deep^ 

And meet, alas! its maddening waves, and in 

Its angry whirlpools often see dread Death's 

Bleak visage coldly, grimly looking out; 

And there I first began to draw from out 

The pearly well of knowledge wholesome draught, 

And nature's various beauties to admire; — 

Though leagues away, my spirit now returns 

To contemplate the scene of Israel's camp: — 

'Tis Sabbath morn. All glorious rolls the sun, 
In radiant grandeur, o'er the mountain tops. 
That rise in gorgeous blueness far along 
The bright, un vapored oriental sky. 
All hail, thou flaming orb! there's not a cloud 
In all the universe to dim thy light, 
Or nubefy one single golden beam. 
Throughout the azure "ocean hung on high," 
'Tis all a "waveless calm." Celestial morn! 
That brings no scowl on all creation's deep! 
The winds are motionless, and in the caves 
Of other climes the jarring thunders sleep. 
Victorious morn! thrice so, because last eve 
The elements had horrid war, and drenched 
This span of earth with gushing floods — of rain; 
But thou, triumphant, hast emerged forth 
From starless, lowering night; and seemeth as 



GREER'S POEMS 



21 



A full blown rose just opened from the mould. 
Transporting hour! I stand among the tents, 
And list, with rapture, to the hymns and prayers 
Of morning worshippers ascending to 
The Lord, and pouring out rich melody 
Through the umbrageous woods, that melts upon 
The fragrant air as notes from Zion's harp. 

My ravished soul has joy too big for speech! 

For 0, behold! along the lanes and ways, 

Where'er the eye, dehghted, turns to see, 

Long streams of living dust come pouring in. 

Centripetal, to this alluring spot — 

This rendezvous of the great Shepherd's flock 

That herds among Brush Ridge's lovely hills. 

And grazes on the living pasture fields. 

Watered with showers of heaven's sweetest love. 

Each heart is moved with reverential awe; 

And every eye with admiration beams, 

To see a living ocean fill the grove, 

Wave rolling inward after mighty wave, 

Until the lofty oaks seem rooted in 

A swelling, dense and moving mass of life. 

And still they come! This morning represents 
The final day, when Gabriel's trump shall call 
All nations to the judgment bar of God. 
And yonder, now, ^Yithin the pulpit, sit — 
Behold them there — the messengers of peace, 



22 GREER'S POEMS. 

Employed by God to stand on Zion's walls, 

And preach salvation to a dying world: 

How calm their brows, and yet what holy smiles 

Are playing lightly o'er their reverend cheeks! 

Blest organs of Almighty God! how grand. 

Refreshing, and "how sweet your tidings are!" 

A youthful minister arises, and, 

With voice as charming as Apollo's harp, 

He sends it swelling through the stilly air, 

To an attentive and enchanted host. 

He finishes. The congregation swells; 

For still they come! Another, who has long 

Proclaimed "good news" to wretched, sinful man. 

Arises, and in deepest thunder-tones 

His audience startles; and the woods resound. 

'Tis o'er. The multitude begins to move. 

A lapse of busy minutes intervenes; 

And then, another at his post, calls in 

The mingling throng, and plainly "sets" before 

Them "life and death" — sets heaven and hell — and 

pleads 
For all to "choose" for heaven. He finishes. 

And then the shades of Summer's balmy eve, 
In solemn silence, closed around the world. 
That night I'll ne'er forget while memory lives; 
And many, who that evening heard the voice 
Of Zion's spirit-charming eloquence. 
Proclaiming loud the everlasting Truth, 



GREER'S POEMS 



23 



While sailing down the rugged stream of time, 
Will hug it as a balsam to their hearts, 
And love its richness through eternity! 
Impress it, Lord, on every heart, that it 
^^Of life may prove a savor unto life." 

'Mong mingling prayers, and songs, and shouts, I saw 
The palsied stretch their withered hands to heaven. 
And they were healed; the blind were made to see; 
The dumb to speak; the lame to walk; and all 
Who loved the Saviour and his glorious cause. 
Whose hearts were 'lumed with heaven's cheering light, 
Did roll a "hallelujah" up to God, 
At which the very angels leaped above. 
And -answered back with shouts of higher love! 

Oct. 24, 1851. 



31TUSIU0S 

ON THE BRUSH RIDGE CAMP GROUND. 

Almighty God ! who hung the azure scroll 
Of heaven betwixt thy lofty throne and earth. 
And made yon silvery Queen to promenade 
Its vast cerulean fields in mien sublime, 
And spangled it with other moons, and stars. 
And worlds, of beauty most mysterious; 
And made the sunny day for man to toil. 
The stilly eve for sweet reflection, and 



24 QUEER'S POEMS. 

The starry night for slumber, rest and dreams; — 

In true devotion would I offer up 

To Thee an anthem from this holy grove! 

My harp! roll forth thy purest strains, while o'er 
Thy tingling chords my eager fingers stray; 
Melodious accents breathe, that many hearts 
May thrill, in fond remembrance of the place — 
The consecrated bower in which I sing. 
My soul in tenderness and joy flows up 
Toward the God of love, while here I sit 
And muse at Zion's hallowed vestibule! 
A pulseless silence broods profound in this 
Fair woodland temple of the Lord, except 
A soft, harmonious whispering among 
The boughs of these tall, patriarchal oaks; 
A mellow sighing of the fragrant breath 
Of early Spring, forth stealing from the south. 
Pale twilight lingers o'er the western hills. 
Where Venus twinkles in her glorious sphere; 
And Cynthia calmly sails the ether sea. 
Watching, with virgin glance, my reverie. 
How oft have angels spread their starry wings 
Among these trees, and borne the tidings up 
To listening, anxious multitudes on high. 
Who throng forever round the pearly gates 
Of Paradise, to catch the news from earth 
That hell was being robbed of candidates. 
And Satan loosing faithful pioneers! 



GREER'S POEMS 



25 



* 



I well remember, when a prattling boy, 
How much I loved to leap from yonder walls. 
And gambol o'er these mouldering logs, and dance 
About these aged oaks, blending my voice, 
Most blithely, with my little school-fellows. 
Within that sacred wooden domicile 
Were lessons of a priceless value stamped 
Upon my intellect, irraseable. 

'Twas in those gladsome days I witnessed here 
The Holy Spirit operate on man. 
Turning his soul from sin to righteousness; 
Yes, here — -just here — I saw the mourners pour 
Their tears, and lift distressful cries to heaven. 
Imploring pardon at the hands of God, 
Through Christ, who died to save a guilty world; 
And then I saw them leap from sin's foul grasp — 
Spring from the yawning jaws of Tartarus — 
And swell loud hallelujahs to the skies. 
Thus stubborn man, sometimes, will bend his knee 
Beneath the goading weight of conscious guilt, 
And ask his God the burthen to remove 
Ere it shall crush him into nether hell. 

Oh, harp! thy happy numbers still prolong; 
For now my spirit seems with pinions dressed, 
That flutter with ecstatic joyousness 
At what I view with retrospective eye: — 

*An old log school-house, near the encampment, 
c 



26 



GREER'S POEMS. 



When Summer last her golden opulence 
Spread o'er these fertile hills, and in the vales 
Her teeming treasures heaped, the mighty God 
Of Sabbath among the people moved. 
This "land of steady habits" felt his power; 
And skepticism, in all its ugliness. 
Then stood aghast and bowed its head — and wept. 
Some old, hard-hearted moralists did stalk 
Bewildered and confounded through the camp, 
And muttering gruffly to themselves the while, 
"These 'noisy Methodists' are crazy, all." 

The voice of one, — on whom affliction since 

Did lay a hectic hand, and bring him nigh 

The dark and lonesome stream of death unawed, — 

Proclaimed alarming thunders through the camp, 

Lodging the arrows of conviction in 

The sinners' hearts, which made them freely bleed. 

To those old, inconsistent, stiff-necked, proud. 

Self-righteous, vaunting, stupid moralists. 

He was a special foe. He boldly stormed 

Their battlements, and shook their sand-based faith. 

Methinks I hear his mighty voice yet roll 

Its thunder-peals of warning in mine ears — 

''Break off your sins hy righteousness^ and your 

Iniquities hy turning to the LordV 

His language, like a sword two-edged and keen, 

Swayed fearlessly by his stentorian voice. 

Made awful havoc 'mong the Devil's ranks. 



GREER'S POEMS. 27 

His warnings fell with most resistless weight 
On many hearts, as did they fall on mine, 
And stamped a deathless impress there — of love ! 
God grant him life and courage, health and strength, 
And all who labor with him here for good. 
To batter down the flimsy barricades 
Of foul sectarianism, and 'mong the hills 
Of old Brush Ridge do mighty works for God ! 
March, 1852. 



Ciiies to tt Done. 

'Tis evening now, 
And all is still, — 

But see, the sun, with cloudless brow, 

Is setting far behind the hill; 

And here, upon this oaken height. 

His golden beams are lingering bright 
On every bough. 

From this lone spot 
I gaze around; — 

List! — what is that my ear has caught? 

What can it be, this mournful sound? 

'Tis pleasant, yet a piteous strain, 

And stirs within my musing brain 
The richest thought. 



28 



GREER'S POEMS 



Again the tone, 

In solemn sound, 
Floats througli the trees that all have thrown 
Their robe of '^glories" to the ground; 
And now their branches, long and bare, 
Are reared among the frosty air 

Where tempests moan. 

Ah! yonder flits 

A lonely dove, — 
It lights; see how it shivering sits. 
And mourns, perhaps, for its "true love." 
Poor turtle! thou art sad, I see; 
Hast thou no mate to comfort thee 

In this cold grove? 

Why thus, away 

In this wild wood. 
Dost thou at evening deign to stray, 
And coo in such a plaintive mood? 
Ah, yes! I understand it now. 
Thy bosom mate is lost, and thou 

Dost want for food. 

Still wilt thou roam, 

Or with me go? 
I'll take thee in my bosom home, 
And shelter thee from storm and snow; 
For thou mayest perish here to-night, 



GREER'S POEMS. 

And never see to-morrow's light — 
Come, lone one, come. 

Poor, hapless dove! 
The day is past, 
And here the winds begin to rove, 
And drifts the snow, and wails the blast; 
Oh, why not quit that leafless tree 
Just now, and come? this night may be- 
lt will — thy last. 

Thy mate is lost, 

I heard thee say, 
And thou are destined in the frost 
To breathe thy fleeting life away: 
Thy mourning here will not be long — 
My bosom melts to know thy song 

Must soon exhaust. 

But, more than thine, 

My gentle dove! 
Would ache this throbbing heart of mine, 
Were it to lose its "only love;" 
'Twould live a while to mourn and sigh. 
Then droop and faint, lay down and die — 

To grief resign. 

My day would be 
A gloomy shade; 

C2 



29 



30 GREER'S POEMS. 

And, like yon setting sun, from me 
Would every beam of pleasure fade: 
I'd welcome then the "monster, Death," 
More chill than bleak Boreas' breath, 
To set me free. 

'Tis morning now. 

Again I tread 
Along the hill's majestic brow, 
But drifting snows around me spread; — 
Last evening here 'twas noiseless, still, 
But now the storm wails o'er the hill; 

And every bough 
Shrieks in the blast that howls in dread 
Commotion round and o'er my head. 

See yonder, how 
Those mighty oaken monarchs move; — 
But where's my charming turtle dove? 

Alas! it's dead! 

The pelting storm 

Has laid it low; 
Yes, here's its httle lifeless form 
Enshrouded in the chilly snow. 
So we awhile the storm must breast. 
Then, at .Jehovah's stern behest. 

We'll be no more; 
But lie enwrapt beneath the sod. 
Our souls go up to meet their God 



GREER'S POEMS. 

In endless rest; 
Or sink, with fiends and ghosts to dwell 
Among the damned in fires of hell, 
Where lightnings flash, 
And demons yell, 
And thunders crash, 
And billows swell, 
And everlastiDg tempests roar! 



31 



eOe £arfi. 

Behold the lark, with soft, light wings 
Bedipped in morning dew; 

He soars aloft and sweetly sings 
In realms of ether blue. 

His pinions bear him high from earth- 
How swift he mounts away! 

And chimes his notes of vernal mirth 
To greet the dawn of day. 

Beneath he leaves the flowery sod. 

As if it were too low. 
And flies away, as though to God 

With songs of praise he'd go. 



32 GREER'S POEMS. 

Oh, happy bird ! when skies are blue, 

Of it thou seemest proud! 
And thou canst bid the earth adieu, 

And flutter in the cloud. 

I've watched thy flight when morn's first rays 
Had touched the eastern skies, 

And listened to thy melting lays 
On evening breezes rise. 

The blossoms on the grassy plain. 

So fragrant and so fair. 
Thy happy wings could not restrain 

From leaping in the air. 

Thy mellow notes are sung in praise 

Of Him who reigns above. 
And teach mankind their hearts to raise 

To heaven in songs of love. 



KOe Souf. 



In every human heart there is a spring, 

A stream whose waters never dry, but sweep 

Forever on, as if on Hghtning's wing 

They were conveyed towp.rd the boundless deep 



GREER'S POEMS. 



33 



Of dread efernity unknown; they leap 
In living issues forth, from being's birth, 

And flow through time, — tears, sighs, grief, sor- 
row, sleep; — 
Enjoy its beauties, — smiles, flowers, music, mirth, — 
And then are called from all the changing scenes of 
earth. 

Man's soul is not created for a day, 

But to survive the light of moon and sun. 

And planted here in tenement of clay. 

To bud, swell, blossom, bloom; and wisely shun 
The bhghting chills of sin which have undone 

Uncounted millions of the fairest mould : 
It cannot be extinguished, but shall run 

Forever parallel with Him who rolled 
The earth upon his palm, and all his works behold. 

That is man's destiny, according to 

The Word revealed to him, if he complies 
With its divine injunctions, and will do 

His Maker's will with purpose true and wise; — 
But if he acts to the reverse, he dies 
The deathless death of pain, remorse, grief, Woe, 

Shame, agony and torture; where the cries, 
The yells, shrieks, howls, groans, oaths of demons 
flow 
Through all hell's dark domains — there he is doomed 
to go! 



34 



GREER'S POEMS. 



The soul is but a vast, unbounded thought, 

Invisible, eternal, spark of day! 
A branch of Deity, most strangely wrought 

To be unfettered — privileged to stray 

At pleasure through the universe ; a ray ; 
The image of its Maker ; kin ally 

Of angels — endless years can ne'er decay 
Its immortality ; a world, a sky 
Oft gloomed with clouds of sorrow ; an infinite eye ! 

Oh, soul ! think what thy latter end may be, 
And seek a happy home beyond this sphere ; 

From time thy flight is to eternity ; 

And that dread hour may be approaching near. 
When at the judgment bar thou shalt appear! 

Heaven woos thee up, earth holds thee down, and 
hell 
Beneath thee yawns ; there is no pausing here, 

In idle dreams, between two worlds to dwell; 
Another year — day — hour, thy destiny may tell. 

What multitude of passions form the soul ! 

They, when unbridled, wage continual war; 
An^ love o'er all should have complete control. 

As Sol has influence upon each star : 

Hope casts its anchor in the future far. 
And looks expectant still for bliss ; Despair 

Takes mastery, sometimes, to cloud and mar 
Our joys; and Avarice crowds upon us care; 
Hatred and Anger to remorse our bosoms bare ! 



GREER'S POEMS. 



35 



lUritfen at tOe ^graue of a Jaoonfe ISomu] Cabi). 

I bend me o'er thy mouldering clay, 
Where thou for years hast calmly slept : 

The tears of love must have their way — 
I weep for thee as once I wept. 

That time I never would forget, 

If it to do I had the power, 
For then I saw in vapors set 

A brilliant star — ah ! gloomy hour. 

When thou wert borne to this lone spot, 
I followed close behind thy bier ; 

I could but mourn — oh, cruel lot! — 
My only language was a tear. 

When thou upon the bed of pain, 
In fever wrapped, didst fading lie, 

I sat me there and saw thee wane, 

But dreamed not thou so soon shouldst die. 

I care not if the foolish sneer, 

The giddy laugh, the thoughtless blame, — 
My heart must vent its feelings here. 

And stir anew affection's flame. 

Alas ! I quafted a bitter cup 

When death I saw had struck the blow; 



36 



GREER'S POEMS. 



But angels caught thy spirit up, 
And left mine here to mourn below. 

One thought I cherish, which revives 
The spark of comfort in my heart. 

That where thy happy spirit lives, 
Death enters not with sword nor dart. 

Another happy thought is mine. 
That where thou art, I, too, can go. 

And join again my soul with thine. 

In love more pure than earth can know. 

Another still — that thou dost come, 
By day and night, to guard my way 

Toward thy bright, celestial home. 

From which my nature deigns to stray. 

But still with grief my heart o'erflows. 
My eyes are full of tears, my brain 

Is burning — all the bitter woes 
Of former days I feel again. 

Thy flashing eyes are slumbering here, 
Thy silken tresses moulder too, — 

And yet I cannot check the tear 
That fills my eye — I loved thee true ! 

Worms have consumed thy lily breast, 
And rioted among thy brain ; 



GRKER'S POEMS. 37 

But still thj dust shall sweetly rest 
Till it is waked to life again. 

Thine arms that once enfolded me, 
Have turned to ashes, lifeless, cold; 

Thine image yet I plainly see, 
But still thy form cannot behold. 

Here, as a tribute of my love, 

I plant a rose-bush o'er thy head, 
And turn to join the widowed dove 

In mourning for the lovely dead ! 



'fttreuicff to tt fafse ?Jouun £«&»). 

Go, maiden ! I will cease to sigh ; 

No more shall grieve this breast of mine, 
Nor wish to know the reason why 

I could not claim that heart of thine. 

I saw thee weep the crystal tear — 
Methought it was the tear of love; 

And then I felt a mystic fear 

That it was feigned my faith to prove. 

And so it was ; — true friendship weeps 
A nobler, purer drop serene; 



38 GREER'S POEMS. 

The heart that prompts it ever keeps 
The memory of its object green. 

Thy downy bosom, fair and soft — 
The pillow of my youthful cheek — 

Has charmed my pilgrim spirit oft 
Its witching loveliness to seek. 

No other joys were half so grand, 
No other pleasures half so sweet, 

As when I clasped thy tender hand, 
And felt thy blooming bosom beat. 

No moments seemed so full of bliss, 
No other feelings so divine. 

As when I pressed affection's kiss 
Upon those honeyed lips of thine. 

I caught the accents of thy tongue 
That breathed a mild, a heavenly air, 

As if an angel to me sung 

To lure my thoughts away from care. 

I was deceived — I had not learned 
That woman's heart so vain could be. 

Or from thee I had ne'er been spurned, 
Nor ever thou been loved by me. 

The leaf that's driven in the wind 
Is pathless wheresoe'er 'tis borne ; 



GREER'S POEMS. 39 

So I've been pathless, wayward, blind, 
Loving, unloved, despised, forlorn. 

And when 1 thought I had a star 
To cheer my path and curb my flight, 

I found it was a phantom, far 
Receding as I sought its light. 

Delusive maid ! that star was thee — 

A shining orb for fools to love ; 
A brilliant thing of vanity. 

That never more this heart can move. 

And so it is — it may be well — 
That we have thus been cast apart ; 

I'll breathe to thee my last farewell, 
If thou wilt give me back my heart ! 



A Scene on one of t^e dffegOenies, 

AT DAY-BREAK. 

Bold mountain throne ! pitched by Almighty hands 

High as the course of clouds; most proudly thou 

Art pinnacled in ether, awful, grand, 

Majestic, everlasting and sublime! 

I stand upon thy top in ecstacy 

And awe commingled, while I see around 



40 



GREER'S POEMSr. 



Me, lifting up their pyramidic crowns, 
Thy fellow-summits, which beneath thee must 
Forever dwell, less lofty than art thou; 
And while I view the star-bespangled arch, 
That soon a flood of Hght shall overwhelm. 
And, too, thy timber tassels crimson o'er 
With glorious golden beams; and to the east 
And west, afaj*, unfurls pure grandeur to 
My vision. Many centuries have swept 
Away, like silent winds, to realms unknown, 
Since thy unmouldering granite columns stoodv 
Impenetrable, to the first wild storm 
That galloped o'er the western wilderness. 
Or braved the fury of Euroelydon. 

I've viewed thee often from the far-off west, 
Like some great giant panoplied in clouds. 
And softly mantled in unfading blue. 
Again I've watched thy heaven-pillowed top 
Until I saw the morning sun from back 
Of thy stern breast slow roll his burning brow; 
Then did I pant to tread thy woody crown. 
And meditate above the bustling world. ■ 

Eternal pyramid of nature ! Oft 
Against thy rock-bound sides immutable 
Have dashed the tempest's angry cavalcadesy 
Red with the rage of conflict, and in might 
Tremendous, wearing often powers of black. 



aRBJSR'ii POEMS. 41 

Tumultuous wrath. The mighty Thunderer 

His shafts has rattled 'mong thj eldest pines, 

And plunged them 'gainst thy ever-during ribs, 

As if to penetrate thy massive depths 

And rift thine iron bowels ; while his fierce. 

Red, horrid, snaky blazes coiled around 

Thy cloud-scarfed head and scorched thy shaking locks. 

But, what a different scene I now behold — 

Delightful, holy picture to my eyes! 

My senses swim in Fancy's dreaming sea, 

Where real and imaginary things 

Seem blended — penciled in celestial light ; 

My thought careers on wings of wondrous speed, 

Back, tracing o'er the dim and fading Past, 

Upon the fleeting Present perches, and 

The Future's shady vista penetrates, 

In which unfolds afar on beauteous fields 

Unnumbered glories unapproachable. 

As though it were from old Atlanta's breast, 
In cloudless 'fulgence now Aurora mild 
Her yellow fore-top pushes up through space 
Nocturnalized, yet not with vapors strewn, 
In which ten thousand thousand orblets glow, 
Reflecting down to earth the smiles of Him 
Whose power heaped bald Chimborazo up ; 
Crowned old Stromboli with eternal snow ; 
From^dark Vesuvius draws intestine fires; 
Spreads beauty on the ocean, land and sky, 
d2 



42 SREER'S FOEHS, 

And this stupendous pinnacle upreared ; 

Where the strong eagle would be proud to perc!i> 

And rest his wings from soaring to the sun. 

What strange extremes are blending in the east [ 
There light and darkness softly meet abreast, 
As though contending for immensity ; 
But night retires from the advance of day — 
Or, seemingly, she yields the mystic field, 
And backward slowly moves her ebon pall 
To cap the great Pacific, and enfold 
In deeper slumber still the mighty west. 

I now bethink me how, like yonder blush 
That shuts the very stars aback from view, 
The first bright morn of nature broke upon 
A dark and pulseless world ; when Phoebus rolled 
His flaming chariot wheels along the broad, 
Foundationless highway of space, traced out 
For him to nin by wise Omnipotence. 

Fame's temple does this summit represent — 

High, gorgeous, changeless, and immovable. 

How few of all who've labored to ascend 

Its rugged steeps, have reached Fame's genial top. 

And with the power of genius and of thought 

Enlinked their names with immortality. 

And saw beneath them move a praising world ! 



GREER'S POEMS. 



43 



Dread AUeghenies! endless chain of hills! 

Pouring pure crystal torrents ever down 

Thy vales, o'erhung with trees of deathless green, 

And walled with ivy-covered battlements. 

My heart is full of adoration when 

I "look through nature up to nature's God I" 

One of creation's orphans desolate 

Am I, all solitary and alone — 

(Not all alone, or soHtary quite,) 

Communion holding with the universe. 

While here I stand upon this awful height 

Of proud Columbia, basking in the beams 

Of Sol, now heaving up his fiery face 

That's blushed last night into nonentity ! 



^fje Cost aSrotOers.* 

Oh, fated boys ! how brief their day ! 
How early snatched from earth away! 

Adown, beneath the smothering tide, 
Without a friendly arm to save. 

They sunk and perished side by side, 
And found, alas! a "watery grave." 

Whilst gaily bathing in the stream, 
With minds transporting in the dream 

* Two little brothers, who were drowned at Brownsville, Pa. 
July 11, 1851, while bathing in the Monongahela River. 



44 URBER'S POEMS, 

Of childhood's purest love ; when not 
A shade of sorrow o'er them stole — 

It was their hapless, mournful lot, 
To sink beneath the water's roll. 

Methinks I see them stretch their hands 
For help, while struggling on the sands 

That were to be their dying bed ; 
But ah ! thej gasp and reach in vain, 

Until the vital spark is fled 
That man can ne'er restore again. 

Mj fancy weeps as o'er them now 
With pity uncontrolled I bow, 

And view them as two tender flowers ' 
Just opening to the cloudless sky, 

Then plucked by death's relentless poweis. 
And plunged beneath the flood — to die. 

'Twas hard to give them up, 'tis true, 
And bid them here a long adieu ; 

But then we hope they're now at rest 
Beyond the starry dome above. 

Reposing on the Saviour's breast, 
And drinking from His sea of love. 

Oh, parents ! mourn them not, for they 
Are gems that deck the world of day ! 

Rescued in childhood from the powers 
Of sin and Satan, they have fled 



GREER'S POEMS. 



45 



To bloom among the cherub flowers 
That o'er the fields of glory spread. 

And, stricken brothers ! now bereft, 
Mourn not, although your side they've left; 

For in a crystal stream above 
They'll bask and bathe forevermore — 

The stream of God's eternal love, 
That rolls no wave nor has a shore ! 

When conflagrating flames conspire 
To wrap the world in raging fire. 

High o'er the melting blaze their souls 
In deathless ecstacy shall dwell, — 

While endless cycles onward roll 
Their tongues will warble, "All is well!" 

With golden harps and silvery wings, 
Among the host that ever sings. 

They'll fly and chant their melody, 
Till heaven's bright dominions ring; 

And there, to all eternity. 
They'll praise their great Redeemer, King. 

They're lost to us at present here. 
But why for them should sorrow's tear 

Be wept ? because their bodies slumber ? 
Why not look up, and smiling, say, 

" Lord, save us with thy ransomed number, 
Where tears nor sorrows find their w^ay !" 



46 GREER'S POEMS. 



Go search the depths of Ophir's mine, 
And call Golconda's treasures thine, 
And all their wealth and worth combine, 

Then, miser, hug it to thy heart ; 
But, ah ! it cannot make thee blest, 
Or buy thy soul a moment's rest. 
Nor cleanse thy sin-polluted breast, 

Nor e'en a ray of joy impart. 

Go search old Ocean's pearly deeps, 
Or dig famed California's steeps. 
Or rob Peru of all her heaps, 

And in thine arms grasp Chili's ore ; 
Then, at thy gorged coffers, kneel. 
And there canst thou j)resume to feel 
A smile of bliss they can reveal ? 

No, not with all thy glittering store. 

Go wash the gold-besprinkled sand 
On wild Australia's distant strand; 
Have India's wealth at thy command. 

And all the golden gods of Rome; 
Then bow and worship what thou hast, 
Or gather more and clutch it fast, 
And with it all canst thou, at last. 

Expect to buy in heaven a home ? 



GREER'S POEMS. 

Ah ! if thou dost, 'twill surely leave 
Thee in eternal gloom, to grieve 
That gold had power to deceive 

And rob thy soul of endless rest. 
This world hath not a charm but what 
Will fade and wither, die and rot ; 
Then, mortals, struggle for it not. 

Or it may curse you when possessed. 

Oh! there's a priceless, glowing prize, 
That all the wealth of earth outvies, 
And buoys our hope beyond the skies. 

Where avarice tortures not the soul ; 
Religion is its wholesome name ; 
And all our fears and all our shame 
Do vanish, when its gentle flame 

Within our bosoms has control. 

'Tis free for all whose hearts, contrite. 
Are humbled by the Gospel's light, 
To bow and ask for it aright 

From Him who turneth none away ; 
Then, worldling, give thy follies o'er, 
And ope thy coffers and thy door, 
And send' the gospel to the poor; 

Enjoy its blessings while you may. 

Go! spread its glories to the world, 
While Zion's banner is unfurled ; 



47 



48 GREER^S POEMS. 

And let each bosom be empearled 
With pure, expanding Christian love; 

And let the heathen's clouded mind 

Be 'lumined up — his soul refined ; 

And every one that now is blind 
Behold a crown for him above. 



Oh, Cheerfulness! forever buoy my mind 
Above the gloom of fell despondency ; 

For raised by this^ it leaves despair behind, 
And plunged in that, 'tis fearful misery. 



Stanzas, 

TO AN ABSENT YOUNG LADY 

The sun is reclining afar in the west, 
In dark-rising vapors enfolding his breast ; 
The song of the robin is heard on the hill, 
And lowly beneath me is murmuring the rill ; 
The leaves are light-stirring upon the tall trees. 
As softly floats through them the odorous breeze ; 
But still I am lonely, and so it must be — 
For I only am happy, sweet maiden,* with thee. 

As shadows flit over the woodland and field. 
And nature to darkness and slumber must yield. 
There seems to be something I cannot explain 



GREER'S POEMS. 49 

Steals into my bosom and floats on my brain ; 
It touches my soul with emotions sublime, 
And seems to infuse itself into my rhyme — 
'Tis highly enrapturing ; — what can it be 
That draws my attention so warmly to thee ? 

'Tis truly a pleasure to feel and to know 
There's something to comfort our being below ; 
And woman can charm us, and cheer us, and bless, 
And render us happy by magic caress. 
She sndiles away anguish, and sadness, and tears. 
And lightens our burthen when sorrow appears; 
Her voice, like an angel's, bids trouble depart. 
And whispers a tempest of care from the heart! 

The pinions of evening are widely unfurled. 
And darkness is softly encircling the world ; 
The insects are humming around my retreat. 
And the robins their carols sublimely repeat, — 
All bidding good-bye to the sun that has fled 
From the fields of bright azure to a vapory bed ; 
Along the dark valley the rill in its glee 
Seems merrily singing, sweet maiden, of thee ! 

There's a pleasure in solitude, (found there alone,) 
When the mantle of evening o'er nature is thrown. 
Like the robe that enveloped fair Venus, whose charms 
Arrested the traveler with pleasing alarms ; 
To the wild shady bower how oft do I steal, 
Where only that pleasure celestial I feel, 



50 



aRBBB'B POEMS. 



In fond recollection, dear maiden, of thee, 
Whose captive I am, nor desire to be free. 

Bright Vesper is wreathing herself in a cloud, 
Appearing as moumfal as Hope in her shroud, 
When her anchor is broken, and tempest and surge 
'Neath Falsehood's black waters forever submerge . 
Her being and beauties ; — distinctly I hear 
The voice of a spirit breathe into mine ear, 
"^i/hope shall ne'er perish;" — on Love's sunny sea 
'Twill anchor forever, sweet maiden, with thee. 

O'er Memory's ocean comes rolling anew 
The feelings that 'rapt me when first to my view 
Thy figure most graceful and lovely appeared, 
Which since to my bosom is tenfold endeared 
By virtue and modesty in it combined, 
With a heart that is gentle, afiectionate, kind ; 
And such is a treasure whose worth is untold — 
A thousand times more to be valued than gold ! 

The heart that is loveless is dreary and dark 
As Clullon's deep dungeon, where never a spark 
From the altar of friendship could 'lumine the goal, 
Nor a sound break the silence save Leman's mad roll! 
The midnight of misery dwells in its core. 
And the surges of torment lash round it and roar: 
Hard, barren and sullen it gropes through the gloom, 
And cares not the moment it drops in the tomb. 



QBEER'S POEMB 



51 



The heart that is filled with love's heavenly light, 
Has sunshine abundant and never a night ; 
'Tis like the fair star that is placed in the sky, 
Far over the tempests and clouds dwelling high ; 
A vapor may cross it a moment, but then 
How soon it glows brighter and purer again — 
So may it be ever my lot to reveal 
Such love to thy vision as that which I feel. 

The giddy may view me with scoff or with sneer, 
And rail at the glitter of love's burning tear. 
As from my soul's fountain, too strong for control. 
It springs to my eye with a dance of my soul ; 
And Oh ! in thy smiles there is joy for my heart, 
That wins me to seek thee wherever thou art : 
Where'er I may journey, where'er I may dwell, 
I'll love and adore thee ; so, dearest, farewell ! 



3Tlononoafitt. 

I love the grassy beach to promenade 
Of Monongalia's gently flowing tide, 
Or sit me down, alone, beneath the shade 
Of oak or elm that towers at its side ; 
And there behold the gorgeous steamer dart 
Along its bosom, tossing madly wide 
The foaming waves, as if she'd rift apart 
Its depths, — the massive waters e'en divide. 



52 



GREER'S POEMS. 



And I have seen the storm across it sweep, 
Each blast still fiercer than the one before, 
As if it would in fury bare the deep. 
And drive the churning waters all ashore ; 
The lowering clouds above it darkly scowl, 
And forky blazes streak their faces o'er ; 
The dismal thunders burst and wildly howl, 
Harsh mingling with the raging tempest's roar. 

But when the tempest sleeps and all is still, 
How calmly does it glide along its way, 
Bearing the impress of the fertile hill. 
And flowery banks, and trees that proudly sway 
Their stately tops and leafy branches o'er 
Its limpid bosom ; — there I love to stray 
At eventide along the verdant shore. 
And meditate when vesper breezes play. 

Yes, meditate on ages long since gone. 
When all these hills and valleys did resound 
With the red Indian's song and shout : not one 
Is left the fearful tocsin now to sound, 
Or through the darksome wilderness to scout ; 
Or, with a merciless and savage bound. 
Leap in upon the doe and fawn ; or route 
And fell the buck and buffalo to the ground. 

These hills that lift their fertile heads aloft. 
Where now such beauty, wealth and grandeur glow, 
I love ; especially where zephyrs soft 



GREER'S POEMS. 53 

Waft mildly o'er the waving corn, and go 

Light whispering through the sugar groves, where birds 

And insect haunt, that flying sweetly throw 

Their music on my ear, which oft has stirred 

My thoughts to soar, when faintly drooping low. 

Beloved river ! here thou flowest on 
Adown thy channel in proud majesty, — 
Hast flowed for many ages past and gone, — 
Shall flow for generations yet to be. 
If earth were searched from centre to each pole. 
Another were not found more fair than thee ; 
So rich thy borders and so smooth thy roll! 
Thou art the stream, the glorious stream for me! 

The hills their mighty treasures here unfold ; 
More to be prized, more worthy to be sought, 
Are they than California's mines of gold. 
Where all the world seems verging to a spot: 
Yes, here are peace and pleasure with thy wealth, 
Bestowing riches never to be bought 
Of soHd minds by yellow dust; and health 
Lights myriad cheeks, by gold nor silver got. 

Red Battle* once did stamp his bloody heel 
In fury at thy side, and fiercely yell; 
And hundreds at his blasting touch did reel, 
And fast before his iron bullets fell 
As gallant warriors as ever bore 

* Braddock's Defeat, 
e2 



54 



GREER'S POEMS. 



A sword or musket when the tocsin-bell 

Did peal, "To arms!" And weltering in their gore, 

They bade to battle, friend and foe, " Farewell." 

Nor did our heroes falter on the field 
'Mid storms of balls and arrows, and the rave 
Of rabid Gauls and copper fiends, or yield 
When wounded fell Britannia's chieftain brave! 
And when the ground was strewn with gory dead, 
And groaning, tossing, dying, then to save 
Our threatened realm a mighty arm did spread 
The flag of Liberty o'er land and wave. 

Nor did Columbia's brave and valiant band 

All perish ere that bloody fight was done, 

But were conducted by a gallant hand 

That struck for liberty — the fearless one, 

Whose brilliant glories on that awful day 

Broke through the gloom — it was bold freedom's sun 

That dawned upon young America — 

It was our noble father — Washington ! 



£o a Ifouno tahx). 

Thou art the one 
In whose celestial presence I can feel 
The genial influence of love to steal 



GREER'S POEMS. 



55 



Into my breast, and run 
Through every vein Hke living fire divine, 
And round my soul its softening flames entwine. 

I've felt before. 
For other maids, affection's fervent blaze, 
And with my harp have sung aloud their praise; 

But, ah ! it brought no more 
Than frowning looks, and words that disapproved 
The tribute of my heart that truly loved. 

Thine eyes bespeak 
The ardor of affection in thy breast, 
Where I would lay my head and sweetly rest; 

And on thy rosy cheek 
How fondly would I print the holy seal . 
Of love's devotion, which for thee I feel. 

Is love a dream? 
No! it is real as the sun that rides 
Through ether deeps, — or as the moon that glides 

With soft and silvery beam 
Around the arch nocturnal; and as clear 
As crystal springs, or night's pellucid tear. 

Who says 'tis all 
A shadow — all a phantom — never felt 
Its burning beauties through his bosom melt; 
He might as justly call 



56 



GREER'S POEMS. 



The mighty sun a cold and feeble spark, 
That glimmers in a sky forever dark. 

What! say that love 
Is but a speculation of the brain? 
Ah, base assertion, foolish, worse than vain! 

As well attempt to prove 
That yonder stars that twinkle in the sky 
Are only gems to please the gazer's eye. 

Who cannot tell 
How it infuses glory through the soul, 
And chains grim anger 'neath its mild control? 

Or who, that's felt its spell 
Flung o'er his spirit in a golden glow. 
That will not seek its deeper depths to know ? 

Love was the theme 
Of ancient bards who struck their harps of gold, 
Until their music down to us hath rolled ; 

Their pleasant tinghngs seem 
To be the honeyed voice of love that sings 
While hovering o'er the soul on odory wings. 

That look of thine, 
Those charming smiles, and that angelic voice. 
Have bhss for me that makes my heart rejoice ; 

And if this gift of mine 
May meet thy approbation, then I'll be 
Most happy, if thou wilt remember me. 



GREER'S POEMS. 

R yraijer for tfje l^Teriitent. 

Great God ! descend and roll 
This burthen from my aching breast, 
And quickly let my mourning soul 
In thee find rest. 

My course has been from thee 
Since first the stage of life I trod ; 
But now unto thine arms I'd flee. 
My Saviour, God. 

The way of sin is hard, 
And in it I no more will dwell, 
Or I may reap a dread reward 
In flames of hell ! 

I pour the tears of grief 
And penitence, thy love to gain ; 
In thee, 0! let me find relief 
From every pain. 

There is no peace on earth, 
Unless it from thy presence flow ; 
For all the joys of human mirth 
Are mixed with wo. 

I turn my back on hell. 
And from the wiles of Satan flee, 



57 



58 



GBEEB'g P0EM8. 

And all mj wrongs and follies tell, 
In prayer to thee. 

Oh! blot mj sins away; 
Bid all my fears and shame depart. 
And let thy love's reviving ray 
Illume my heart. 

My God, forgive, forgive ! 
Thy Son didst die on Calvary, 
That I — unworthy I — ^might live 
Eternally. 

I know thou wilt not turn 
My anxious soul away oppressed ; 
For thou hast said that " Those who mourn 
ShaU all be blessed!" 

My pride is broken down ; 
And all my crimes I ask forgiven, 
Because I want a starry crown 
To wear in heaven. 

By nature I am lost, — 
Lone, wandering on life's troubled sea. 
On whose wild waves I have been tossed 
Away from thee. 

The thunders o'er me roll, 
And high the foaming billows swell. 



GKEKU'H I'OEMS 



59 



Bufc thou canst save my wrecking soul 
From yawning hell. 

Bestow the priceless pearl, 
And make me rich while here I bow, 
The beauties of thy love unfurl, 
And save me now! 

' I long for thy embrace ; 
Oh, Saviour! take me in thine arms; 
Reveal thy reconciled face 

In smiles and charms. 

Thou'rt coming, Lord ; I feel 
My spirit drawing out to thee : 
Thy dying blood my wounds wilt heal, 
And set me free. 



e^e 0(b £00 (i^^urc^. 

Ye mouldering walls! how sacredly ye've stood, 
While more than half a century has swept 
Into eternity! The evening breeze « 
Steals through your crevices and fans my cheek, 
Where I have stolen from the busy world 
To live a while in stilly solitude, 



60 



GREER'S POEMS. 



And meditate on departed years. 
The sun rolls down the western skies, and pours 
His beams of glory through your shattered roof, 
As though 'twere heaven smiling sweetly down 
In memory of souls here born to God. 

Oh, veteran temple! hands that reared thee up. 

Ere thee have fallen 'neath the weight of age, 

And many of them lie just there beside 

Thee, wrapped in wakeless slumber in the ground; 

But thou dost stand a holy monument. 

Where Zion's thunders have proclaimed to scores 

The Word of Life, by which their souls were saved 

From everlasting sorrow, shame and death; 

For many here have found a balm to heal 

Their every wound, and draw their thoughts away 

From things that perish — evil, carnal things. 

And fix them fast on fadeless things above. 

No splendid workmanship in thee is found, 

Nor costly drapery adorns thy walls; 

Not like the gaudy temples which have been 

Erected in these modern days to be 

The gods of worship ; low idolatry, 

To worship aught but God, the mighty One, 

High throned above the skies eternally! 

But thou 'wast framed when Christianity 

Was young in Pennsylvania's western wilds, 

And long hast sheltered 'neath thy homely roof. 



IJREER'S POEMS. 



61 



From winter's storms, and summer's scorching suns, 
The followers of the true and living God, 
''Who hangs the Universe upon his arm," 
And "marks the sparrow's fall," — hears sinners plead 
When bowed in penitence; when steeped in wo. 
When staggering 'neath their loads of guilt and shame, 
And tortured with remorse, — He hears their cries, 
And from the golden hills of heaven stoops. 
And lifts them to the skies in point of love. 

Time rolls away its mystic flight of years. 

Sweeping the nations to oblivion down. 

Of whose existence scarce a trace is left; 

Of pride, wealth, wisdom, fame, worth, greatness, 

power. 
Arms, commerce, war, peace, union, love. 
No record tells, no tongue survives to speak; 
But dim Forgetfulness o'ersweeps them as 
They lie entombed in an eternal night! — 
And thou art crumbling, venerable fane ! 
The tooth of Time is preying on the walls. 
And soon, like every other work of man. 
Shall perish in oblivion ; — soon like those 
Who shaped thy tottering form, and worshiped God 
Within thy gates in days of other years, 
Shalt thou be laid in ruin — nothingness, 

I never pass thee but with solemn heart. 

And deepest reverence. Surely thou hast been 

The gate from sin's destructive ways to heaven; 



62 



GREER'S POEMS. 



The door from death to everlasting life. 
Although destruction hath defaced thee much, 
I love thee still ; I love to sing of thee ; 
But thou mayest yet survive my song, and stand. 
When he who sings thee now shall sleep in death ! 



£0^ BeatO of Mrs. (Carofme Q. Qamkins, 

A sister has bidden farewell 

To friends and to relatives here. 
And has gone, with her Saviour to dwell, 

In a holier and happier sphere; 
She died in the triumphs of faith, 

With every transgression forgiven, 
And while she was gasping in death, 

She cried, '^I am going to heaven. 

"I long to depart from my pain, 

My spirit's bright pinions to spread, 
And go with my Jesus to reign. 

Where my babe from my bosom has fled; 
I soon shall rejoin it above. 

And clasp it again to my heart, 
In purer and holier love, 

No more from each other to part. 

" My loving companion, good bye ! 
I leave you a season to mourn ; 



aREER'S POEMS. 63 

In sadness and sorrow to sigh, 

That I thus from thj bosom am torn. 

Alone, 'neath the valley's damp clod 
Mj body in slumber shall dwell ; 

But I'll meet you again with my God, 
So, dearest companion, farewell!" 

She lived in the fear of the Lord, 

And she died with a soul Ml of love ; 
And now she has got her reward. 

In the mansions of glory above. 
Great God! what a comfort is this, 

To know that our friends are at rest. 
Where the streams of enjoyment and bliss 

Eternally flow through the breast. 

Around her she summoned her friends, 

And entreated them all to prepare 
To meet her where joy never ends, 

Beyond this dark region of care ; 
Where sorrow and grief never roll 

Their horrible curtains abroad, 
To veil from the rapturous soul, 

The beauties and glories of God. 

Thou art dead, dearest sister, and gone 

To shout hallelujah on high. 
With the throng that surrounds the "white 
throne," 



64 GREER'S POEMS. 

Far over jon blue, starry sky I 
There may we all meet thee at last, 

Wheii our day of probation is o'er,. 
And feast on the heavenly repast 

That is spread for the saints evermore. 

No murmur shall break thy repose 

In the " valley of death," lone and stilT^ 
Till the trumpet of Gabriel blows 

The slumbering nations to thrill ; 
Then thou wilt arise from the tomb, 

And with thee we'll all soar above,. 
Where our spirits forever shall bloom. 

In the kingdom of glory and love! r^ -ig 



V 



Methinks I hear 
The "breathing" of thy harp's bright strmg. 
Its gentle music softly fling 

Upon my ear; 
And as I list and hear it sing. 
My heart within me seems to spring, 
And hang upon its echoing. 

So sweet and clear. 



The "Muse's wand" ^ 

Hath touched thy "lyre" to minstrelsy^^ ^ 



GREER'S POEMS. 



65 



"Whose thrilling notes" sound charmingly 

Through all the land ; 
Thousands have heard them rolling free, 
As pure, seraphic harmony. 
Concerting most angelicly 

At thy command. 

Though dull the soul, 
It must rejoice to hear the lay, 
As from ihe skies it found its way, 

At thy control : 
Then persevere, nor let dismay 
Its ebon sceptre o'er thee sway; 
But tune thy harp — its numbers may 

For ages roll! 



' -' '^ 



I "drink" the strain 
That^omes so deep, so soft and light 
In strearqs from out a mind so bright, 

iWhere knowledge reigns, — 
Where loie is treasured up aright, 
That sMp^tition's meager spright 
Cann^lestroy, nor folly's blight, 
Can ever stain. 

I love the song, 
fe tones with deep aifection glow, 
«*,^ And fill with rapture as they flow, 
The listening throng: 

F2 




66 



6FREER'S POESrS". 



Then strike thy lyre, and let it throWy 
Its lovely accents high and low, — 
Till laurels twine around thy brow, 
The sound prolong. 

Fame's top may be 
Thy seat; and ravished millions gaze. 
With looks of pleasure and amaze, 

High up to thee, 
Whose crown with glorious light shall blaze ;; 
While future ages speak thy praise, 
And nations dwell upon thy lays^ 

Exultingly. 

Thy name may shine 
Upon the roll that floats the sky^ 
Where evergreens around it fly, 

And laurels twine: 
Press on — the fount can never dry 
From whence such strains are swelled on high 
Immortal fame, I wonder why, 

May not be thine? 



Sweet Flora has arrived from southern lands, 
And smiled Boreas to the north again; 
She brings bright wreaths of flowers in her handSy 
To robe the trees and decorate the plain. 



GREER'S POEMS, 



Z^e (COristittu's Jlequest. 

Oh ! let me go 

From all below, 
To range the fields of Paradise, 

Where endless joy 

Without alloy, 
Shall be my lot above the skies ; 
Where myriad angels shout and sing 
Eternal praises to their King, 
And drink of love's reviving spring 

That never dries. 

I long to be 

From sorrow free, 
And bid this sinful world farewell^ 

Where thunders howl, 

And demons prowl. 
To drag the soul to ruin's cell, 
To scorch amid sulphuric fire, 
And roll in God's eternal ire, 
And live with sin's polluted sire. 

In flames of hell. 

Oh, let my bark 
Upon the dark 
Tempestuous waves of Time's vast deepj 
Be calmly stayed 
In charnel bed, 



67 



68 GREER'S POEMS. 

That I may up to heaven leap. 
Blow on ye winds — around me play 
A little while — and then away, 
On golden pinions let me stray, 
And glory reap. 

0, love divine 

Around me shine. 
And be my lamp by which to steer, 

That I may moor 

On Canaan's shore. 
And weep no more a bitter tear. 
Oh ! Saviour 'lay the rolling waves, 
And calm the storm that round me raves, 
And if my vessel wreck to staves. 

Oh ! be thou near ! 

And be my shield 

On battle-field. 
And sword, that I may Satan fight ; 

And nerve my heart 

To stand his dart. 
And brave the fury of his might: 
I hear the clanking of the chain. 
With which his majesty would fain 
Pinion me down in endless pain 

And beamless night. 

I humbly bow 
And pray thee now, 



GREER'S POEMS 



69 



That all my sins may be forgiven ; 
Oh ! send a shower 
Of gracious power, 
And from me let all fear be driven ; 
That, when my body falls beneath 
The hfe-destroying arm of death, 
I, with my last departing breath, 
May rise to heaven I 



<a SriOutc 

TO THE MEMORY OF MISS MARGARET L- 

Those cheeks that wore the rose's hue, 

Have faded in a day ; 
Those friendly eyes so bright and blue^ 

Now slumber in the clay. 

That merry voice that rang so clear 

Is hushed for evermore ; 
Its tones shall ne'er salute my ear, 

As oft in days of yore. « 

Ah ! she is locked in Death's embrace, 

In silence dark and deep, 
And I, above her resting place, 

Do humbly bow and weep. 



70 GREER'S POEMS. 

When through the grassy meads we used 

To sport in childish play, 
With violets gay we were amused 

The sunny, live-long day. 

Along the green hill-side we oft 
Have plucked the fragrant flower, 

And listened to the music soft 
Pour from the verdant bower. 

But ah! she's passed the gloomy vale, — 

To join the seraph band, — - 
Through which we, too, will have to sail, . 

At God's all-wise command. '^ 

Her soul has ta'en its happy flight iJ 

On angel's wings above, ^^^ 

To live in realms of heavenly light. 
And shout redeeming love. 

Beyond the star-bespangled sheet, 

Upon the Saviour's breast, 
There she has f^nd a safe retreat. 

To be fore v^ blest. 

i 

O'er heaven's flowery plains she'll soar 

On wings that never; tire, 
Where racking pains are felt no more — 

In angel's bright attire. 



GREER'S POEMS. 

And far the golden streets along, 

She'll trace the gilded scene, 
And listen to the holj song 

Of cherubim, serene. 

Though friends around her wept to see 

Her last expiring breath, 
And knew her body soon must be 

Laid low by ruthless death ; 

Yet they could not arrest the blow 
That threatened o'er her head. 

For God commanded Death to go, 
And cut life's brittle thread. 

Her body lies beneath the clod — 

Enshrouded in the clay; 
Her soul is with its Saviour, God, 

In fairer worlds of day ! 

With heaven's joyous hosts she'll shine 

Where peace is ever rife, 
And sing the song of love diviue, 

Around the tree of life. 

There, from its boughs, she'll pluck and eat 

Celestial fruits of love. 
And shout around the mercy seat, 

While endless ages move. 



71 



72 



GREER^S POEMS, 

Beneath its shades, she'll there repose 

In Jesus' smiles secure, 
And drink the crystal stream that flows 

Through heaven, forever pure. 

If this be now her happy state, 
She lives — redeemed from care; 

And let us try before too late, 
To meet her spirit there ; 

For we must die and bid adieu 

To things that earthly are. 
And give account for what we do. 

At God's tribunal bar ! 

Oh ! let us live, that when we die 
Our hope in heaven may be. 

And thence our happy spirits fly 
From pain and sorrow free. 

This world is all a desert tract 

O'er which we bhndly hie, 
And seldom think our every at;t 

Is registered on high. 

Oh ! why not ask to be forgiven 
For all the wrongs we've done, 

And meet this youthful soul in heaven 
When life's short race is run ? 



GREER'S POEMS 



R 3Hountttiri Storm. 



73 



I strayed alone among the mountains wild, 

When evening spread her cuftain o'er the world, 
And all was beautiful, the air was mild, 

The sky with twinkling glories was empearled, 
And, viewed through twilight, hills and trees 
unfurled 
A splendor I had ne'er beheld before ; 

Adown amongst them crystal torrents hurled 
Unceasing streams of sparkling waters o'er 
The ragged rocks; — there's something witching in 
their roar. 

Held by the scene in meditative mood. 

Deep midnight soon arrived ; but, ah ! it came 
With rattling thunders — and the sky, and wood. 

And torrents, all were lit with golden flame! 

I trembled lest the Thunderer might aim 
At me a glittering bolt, as by he rode 

Upon the wildly rolling clouds — the same 
In wrath and deathly power as when he strode 
Along the Grecian storm, the trumpeter of God ! 

Mad storm ! it came in fury sweeping on. 

And dashed, and howled, and screamed from. 
pea5[ to peak. 
As though 'twere full of wrangling fiends upon 



74 



GREER'S POEMS. 



The horrid blasts careering; every shriek 
A double echo rang, and every streak 

Of flame that curled along the clouds was red 
With triple terror, racing down to wreak 

Its vengeance qji the hills, and round my head 
Fhng glaring hues of fire, and fill my soul with dread. 

Although the scene was awful to behold. 

Yet it was pleasing, too, to stand and see 
The big black clouds in wild confusion rolled 

Along the skies, like surges on the sea; 

Anon a mass of fire they seemed to me, 
All checkered o'er with snaky shafts, while far 

Around, above, beneath, there seemed to be 
Two furious earthquakes joined in deadly war, 
So hideous was the roar, so terrible the jar ! 

Eternal God ! how dreadful is thy might. 

Displayed in tempests on the sea and land! 
The clouds thou kindlest with electric light. 

And hurl'st the howling thunders from thy hand ! 

The forests tremble, and the desert sand 
Is madly whirled against the blackened skies ; 

The oceans heave and foam, and lash the strand, 

And o'er their breasts, like mountains, billows rise ; 

Cities are crushed; — Thou fillest nature with surprise ! 

It may seem strange that I was there alone 
At such a time, upon that fearful height ; 



GREER'S POEMS. 



75 



But I had missed my way — the day was gone, 
And there I had to pass the dismal night, 
No roof above me but the skies, no light 

But stars, and then the flashes of the storm ; 
No voice I heard but thunder, and the flight 

Of hollow blasts that filled me with alarm ; 
But still, amid them all, there lurked for me a charm. 

At length the storm was hushed. The stars again 

Shone brightly down upon a world that lay 
In glorious silence, for the thunder, wind, and rain, 

And clouds, and lightning, all had passed away; 

Then, on the eastern skies, fair morning's ray 
Sublimely gleamed ; the mountain bird awoke, 

And sung his carol to the rising day. 
As he flew gladly over pine and oak, 
Or softly fluttered 'neath the monarchs' verdant cloak. 

Adown the clifis the turbid streamlets poured. 
And swelled their melody upon the air, — 

Wild music! — for they plunged and foamed and 
roared 
From ledge to ledge, as if in wrath to tear 
The solid rocks from their foundations ; there 

Was I, a wanderer in the mighty wood. 
Encompassed round by decorations fair; 

And thought, while on a precipice I stood, 
' Here I could live, and wed my life with Solitude.' 



76 



GREER'S POEMS. 

S. Song. 

Alas ! dear girl, we soon must part, 
And bid to each a sad farewell ; 

And oh ! how much it grieves mj heart, 
This feeble song will fail to tell. 

That smile that sports upon thy cheek, 
Has something magic in its play ; 

And those bright eyes of thine do speak 
More than thy ruby lips can say. 

Thou hast a heart both pure and true, 
That gives no place to vile deceit; 

And guardian angels amply strew 
The flowers of pleasure at thy feet. 

Oh, gentle girl! thy presence oft 
Has made my flinty bosom thrill ; 

And, too, thy voice serene and soft. 
Has wooed my spirit at its will. 

Thou'rt happy now ; and never may 
A note of discord touch thine ear, 

Nor sorrow, sadness, nor dismay. 
E'er cause thine eye to drop a tear. 

Thy God will take good care of thee, 
If thou the path of duty tread, 



GREER'S POEMS. 



77 



And if thou ask it of him, he 

Will pour his blessings on thy head. 

And thou hast set thy face toward 
A better world than this one is ; 

And at the end may thy reward 
Be glory and eternal bliss. 

'Tis nature's own untarnished light, 
And art's sublimest beauties blent, 

That makes thee pleasant to my sight, 
And in thy presence feel content. 

'Twere vanity for me to try 

With skill like mine to paint love's worthy- 
Fit hues alone are found on high, 

Above the fading things of earth. 

Spend all thy days in doing good. 
And ne'er forget to watch and pray; 

Then, when the clouds of darkness brood. 
Thy God will drive them all away. 

Soon we a prey to death will fall 
And slumber 'neath the silent clod, 

Till the last trumpet's voice shall call 
Our bodies up to meet our God. 

Then may we both to heaven ascend 
O'er blissful fields of Hght to rove, 

g2 



78 



GREER'S POEMS. 

And there our happy voices blend 
In songs of everlasting love. 

Oh ! could I speak what now I feel, 
'Twould give my doubting spirit rest; 

But sorrow o'er me seems to steal 
And cloud the comforts of my breast. 

Alas, dear girl ! we now must part. 
And bid to each a sad farewell; 

And oh ! how much it grieves my heart, 
This feeble song has failed to tell. 



Qr}mn — Cooe Biofnc. 

'Twas love divine induced the Lord of light 
To bid the upper world, awhile, farewell, 

And come into this lower ground of night 
To rescue man from endless death and hell. 

'Twas love that sat upon his sinless brow 
While burthened with the cross on Calvary; 

And there, behold ! 'twas love that made him bow 
His head, and die upon the shameful tree. 

'Twas love that made him burst the tomb and rise 
Triumphant to his Father's throne on high : 



GREER'S POEMS. 



79 



And there he sits with bleeding wounds, and cries, 
In tones of living love, for you and I. 

'Tis love that lifts our thoughts beyond the sun, 
And twinkling stars, and rolling orbs of heaven ; 

That humbles us before the Mighty One 
To bend the knee and ask our sins forgiven. 

'Tis love that warms and cheers the drooping heart, 

And fits it for the spirit's fair abode ; 
That bids our cares and sorrows all depart, 

And links our souls to glory and to God ! 

Almighty ! thou who stillest the rolling waves. 
And biddest the raging sea of life " be calm," 

Thy love impart to Satan's dying slaves, 

And cleanse their souls with thine all-healing balm. 

Oh ! let the glorious gospel tidings spread 
Triumphantly from pole to pole, till all 

The fallen children of our federal Head 
Shall hear and answer to the saving call. 

Roll on the time when nations yet unborn 
Shall bow beneath the sceptre of thy Word, 

And from the wilderness of sin return 
To celebrate the praises of their Lord. 

Dark on the deep of every human heart 
The seal of sin is set : and God alone, 



80 



GREER'S POEMS. 



By love divine, redemption can impart, 

And whisper, " Peace ! thy load of guilt is gone !" 

Yes, thou the guilty burthen canst remove, 
And speak the darkest darkness into day; 

Then bless us with a portion of thy love, 
And chase the least remains of sin away. 

Eternal P Uncreated! Infinite! 

With swelling bosoms would our lips exclaim. 
All honor, glory, majesty and might 

Be ever rendered to thy lofty name. 

Unchanging God ! when Gabriel's trump shall roll 
Its blast omnific to the trembling world. 

And from earth's centre far to either pole 
The all-consuming fires shall be unfurled, 

Oh! may we then exult above the blaze 
And o'er the melting world shout victory. 

Amid the multitudes that ever praise 

Thy name, and render homage unto thee. 

Oh ! help us now to glorify thy name ; 

And may we ever feel that we are thine, 
Supported by that animating flame — 

The essence of thy glory — love divine ! 



GREER'S POEMS. 81 



Uerscs, 

WRITTEN AT VISITING THE GRAVE OF A. G. W. 

LATE OF ALLEGHENT COLLEGE. 

Unclouded was the morning sky 

That bent above thj head ; 
Thy sun of life that rose on high 

Its glories round thee spread: 
But thou wast struck just in thy prime, 

By death's relentless hand, 
And borne beyond the bounds of time 

Into a spirit land. 

Far from the happiness of home — 

From parents loving, kind — 
O'er hills and valleys thou didst roam 

To cultivate thy mind. 
The bloom of health was on thy cheek — 

Thine eyes were bright and gay; 
But, sad to think, they slumber now 

Low in the silent clay. 

Perhaps thy spirit from on high 

Dost hover round me here. 
Whilst o'er thy earthly pillow I 

Do bow and drop a tear. 
Oh ! could I leave my house of clay 

Renewed and forgiven, 



82 GREER'S POEMS. 

How gladly would I soar away 
To rest with thee in heaven ! 

The grass is verdant on the tomb 

Where now thou art at rest, 
And fragrant flowers round it bloom 

In tints of beauty dressed. 
The branches of the stately tree 

Beside thy peaceful grave 
In tones most sad and mournfully, 

Now sighing, o'er thee wave. 

The warbler perched upon the spray 

Sends sweetest song abroad. 
And upward looks, as if to say 
Thy soul is with its God. 
Yes, thou art gone to worlds above 
Where death-knells never toll. 
To bathe in seas of heavenly love 
Thy unbespotted soul. 

O'er fields of pure, eternal joy 

Thou'lt spread thy pinions wide, 
And drink fore'er without alloy 

From love's sweet flowing tide. 
Thou art from pain and sorrow free 

In heaven's bright abode ; 
The angels are thy company — 

Thy Father is thy God! 



GREER'S POEMS. 83 

Spring anb (TOifbOooi). 

Gay little bird ! well mayest thou rejoice 
And chirp so merrily, for spring is here. 

I love to listen to thy happy voice — 
It seems my melancholy soul to cheer. 

Yes, Spring has come again with pleasant breeze, 
And warming sun, and animating showers ; 

And lovely blossoms decorate the trees; 

And even the ground seems carpeted with flowers. 

The peach and cherry, apple, plum and pear 
Assume an aspect beauteous to behold ; 

And little birds are flitting everywhere 

Among the trees that such rich charms unfold. 

If I had wings like yonder little wren 
That sits atop that stately cherry tree, 

I'd dip them in the morning dew, and then 
Would roam away the flowery world to see. 

And now in thought I'm carried back again 
To when I was a careless, prattUng boy ; 

Oh! then I ne'er had felt the sting of pain. 
But every breath was breathed in perfect joy. 

i, with my merry play mates, skipped away 

Through mead and thicket, field and shady grove ; 



84 



GREER'S POEMS. 



And there from morn till night would sing and play, 
While in our bosoms glowed untarnished love. 

We pulled the wild rose and the violet 

And wove them into chaplets large and neat, 

Or on the ground beneath a tree would sit 
And stories of our love to each repeat. 

Sometimes we'd dance along the babbling brook 
And watch the fishes in the waters play, 

Or seek the shade, and with some pleasing book 
While many long and happy hours away. 

We'd chase the tiny squirrel to his home, 
And laugh to see him dart into the ground, 

Or up along the oaky hill would roam 

And shout till vales beneath would e'en resound. 

And oftentimes we'd seek the rocky steep 
And gather on the mossy ledge, to see 

The Autumn leaves go circling down the deep 
Till lost among the laurel shrubbery. 

That was my spring of life — -my earthly heaven — 

A ramble in the sun's celestial beam. 
The joy was only for a moment given, 

And now I wake to know it was a dream. 

And so, alas ! to manhood I am grown, 
And my companions all have left my side ; 



GREER'S POEMS. 



86 



And out upon the stream of life alone 

I'm east, to breast the dark and stormy tide. 



(fl SOUQ. 

I'll think of thee when evening throws 
Across the sky her shady vest, 

And Venus in her beauty glows 
Upon the bosom of the west. 

A lone retreat I then will seek 

Where stars shall twinkle o'er my head, 
And softly down on nature's cheek 

Their dewy tears in silence shed. 

I there will muse in fond delight, 
While rapture shall my soul entwine. 

Upon the time when first my sight 
Fell on a form so fair as thine ! 

That hour, with all its joyous scene, 
Comes booming o'er my memory's sea ; 

And yet sometimes I almost ween 
That I am far away with thee. 

My heart's deep fountain to thee flows, 
Dear maid, in streams that purely swell ;- 



86 GREER'S POEMS. 

My pleasures words can ne'er disclose, 
And half my bliss tongue cannot tell. 

My language fails, — 'tis far too week. 
And quite too thoughtless are my brains, 

To pen it down, or try to speak 
My love for thee, in fitting strains. 

I strive to set it forth that thou 

Mayest see that earnest is my guide ; 

But weakness stamps my pensive brow, 
And with it I must e'en abide. 



And every tie that nerves my soul 
Shall stronger grow as time may 

And as the needle to the pole. 
So true I'll ever prove to be ! 



flee; 



The rocks shall leave the earth and take 
A journey upward through the air. 

Ere I a single vow will break 

That's meant, dear girl, for thee to share. 

The sun shall cease his light to lend 
To earth from heaven's dome of blue, 

And sparks no more will up ascend 
When I will prove to be untrue ! 

The moon shall frown, and turn away 
Her silvery face to smile no more ; 



GREER'S POEMS 



87 



And stars through space shall backward ride, 
And hide on nature's farthest shore : 

The deep shall gather in her waves 
And roll them all in one sad groan ; 

And granite mountains wreck in staves, 
And hills in bitter anguish moan: 

The doves shall flutter through the wood 

To sound their plaintive notes no more ; 
And through the depths of solitude 

The tempests sweep with deafening roar- 
All this shall be when I will deign 

To stoop to break a single vow, 
Or touch a chord to render pain, 

Or draw a cloud o'er woman's brow! 

No ! sooner let this frame of mine 

Sink 'neath the clods of some lone vale, 

Or step across Columbia's line. 
O'er Afric's burning sands to wail. 

May angels guard thy bed by night 
And tint with joy thy every dream. 

And with the morning's golden light 
May heaven's blessings on thee stream. 



88 GREER'S POEMS, 



EOe Bcbictttian of Jllount aaOor CCOurcO.* 

A lovely Sabbath morning dawned upon 

The animating world, and from behind 

The eastern hills that rear their lofty tops 

In flushing beauty high o'er Monongaha's 

Silvery waves, the sun majestic rose: 

He never shone upon the earth more fair, 

Or lit the skies more cloudless or serene. 

Beasts, birds and men seemed waked from slumber 

sweet. 
And rambled forth in perfect happiness, 
To breathe the savory gale of new-born Spring. 

The balmy air, as breath of innocence 
When sweetly sleeping in a bed of flowers 
And breathing soft through rosy tapestry, 
Did gently float across the smiling hills. 
And lowly whispered through the sylvan groves 
Just putting on their vernal garniture ; 
And down along the shady vales it sighed 
Most charmingly among the oaken bowers. 
From whence the cheerful and melodious notes 
Of merry warblers seemed to issue out. 
Responsive to the music of the hills. 
Where birds and breeze harmoniously did sing- 
Their morning hymns to the eternal God. 

* A new church edifice erected near Cookstown, in Washingtoia 
County, Pa. and dedicated May 10, 1851. 



GREER'S POEMS. 89 

Nor they alone did seem devotional; 

For man, as though reanimated at 

The presence and the gladsome voice of Spring, 

And bj inspiring impulse to return 

A grateful tribute to the Lord of Hosts, 

Was seen toward Mount Tabor humbly march 

To pay his vows to him who died for man. 

And offer up devotion to his God. 

Upon the lofty summit of the Mount, 
Beside an efflorescent bordered grove, 
Proudly o'erleaning MonongaHa's free 
And ever-lovely stream, and overlooking 
Leagues of fertile tract — far on either side 
Spread out in nature's ornamental dress — 
A temple neatly wrought, by skillful hands 
Erected, stood in showy loveliness. 
Toward it, gathering in like joyous bees 
At eventide returning from the fields, 
Came hundreds up to hear the word of God. 

The minister arose with brow serene. 
And o'er that reverential audience glanced 
With eye almost divine. Angels were there, 
Hovering round his heaven-devoted soul 
And filling it with oil and fire of truth. 
That it might shed a fight to every heart 
And win the wandering sinner home to Christ; 
And with admiring vision o'er that vast 

h2 » 



90 



SREER'S POEMS. 



Assemblage, silent all in humble awe, 
Did draw a charm of deep solemnity. 

0, blessed morning of the Lord! It stamped 
A holy impress on each heart that will 
Thereon remain throusjh life indelible. 
That was the avenue which opened up 
From earth to heaven, through which the Saviour 
smiled. 

The scene was meet for angel's skill to paint 

With the effulgent tints of paradise, 

And not for puny man, whose hues are gloom, 

His heart corrupt, his words unmeaning sounds, 

And all his actions perfect vanit}^: 

The harps and seraphines of glory, well 

Attuned, could only sing its loveliness. 

"(r<?c? is a Spirit; and who worship himy 
Must worship) him in spirit and in truth^'' 
Did melt like heavenly incense on the ear,, 
And winged the soul to pure sublimity. 
The mouth that spake it, spake for God : 
It plead for rebel man to turn and Uve ; 
And warned of his doom — the pains of hell, 
And horrors of the everlasting damned. 

The thoughts of that vast multitude were blent 

And borne away by eloquence divine. 

To st^rs, and suns, and shining worlds that roll 



GREER'S POEMS. 



91 



Obedient circles round the throne of God ; 
Were brought again to view themselves — to read 
Their own ungrateful yet adoring hearts, 
And render praise to their Redeemer's name. 
Oh, what an hour of glory ! what a day 
Of love, praise, reverence, beauty unexcelled! 

'Twas there we felt our soul with angels blend, 

While sounded loud the gospel trump abroad ; 
Where hymns and prayers, commingling, did ascend 

Through Zion's portals to a triune God. 

Long may Mount Tabor's sacred temple stand 

A door to the triumphant church above ; 
Long may it prove a blessing to the land — \ 

There with their Lord may thousands fall in love ! 

And oh ! may every one who heard that morn 

The gospel truth, pursue the narrow road ; 
May every one from death to life be born, 

And all be saved in heaven Avith their God. 

Oh, who would not, at such a moment, feel 

His heart grow warm with adoration's blaze ! 
Oh, who would not, at such a moment, kneel 

And lift his voice to God in fervent praise ! 

There is a beauty ne'er to be expressed, 

Where meet the young, the middle-aged, the old, 



92 GREER'S POEMS. 

With opportunity and being blest, 

AM witb their Maker sweet communion hold. 

Oh, blessed Church ! may discord never roll 
A jar within thy walls, but union move 

Salvation's work along ; and every soul 

That worships there be filled with Jesus' love ! 



A SoRfl. 

Dearest maiden ! mild and tender, 
Lovely as the fairest flower ; 

Not the rose, in all its splendor. 
Has such charms within its power. 

How my bosom swells with gladness ! 

How my pulse begins to move ! 
For my soul is free from sadness — 

Filled with healing draughts of love. 

Once before such blissful feeling 
Ruled the empire of my mind ; 

But, alas ! I was but kneehng 
At fell-disappointment's shrine. 

She whom then my soul admired. 
Loved, adored, and called my own, 



(JREER'S POEMS. 



93 



Falsely from my arms retired, 
Lea vino: me to sigh and moan. 



^&^ 



Love again my breast is filling, 
Softly melting through my heart. 

And my soul is sweetly thrilling, 
While my latent pulses start. 

Love has lulled my heart's commotion. 
Calmed my bosom's raging storm ; 

And, athwart my spirit's ocean, 
IStreams a light so pure and warm. 

Thou art young and unassuming — 
Unacquainted with the snares. 

Which are laid to catch the blooming — » 
Often laid in tears and prayers. 

To the flatterer give no heeding, 

Strive the fickle to evade ; 
They would scofi" to see thee bleeding 

At the wounds which they had made. 

Should the archer's poison arrow 
Ever pierce thy tender breast, 

Oh ! I'll pity thee — for sorrow 
Will forever drown thy rest. 

Thou art sure a lovely creature, 
Fair as seraphim above ; 



94 QBEER'S POEMS 

And I trace in every feature, 

Thou canst feel the depths of love. 

Oh ! the chords of fond affection 
Springing from that soul of thine, 

Seem to twine in sweet connection 
With this melting heart of mine. 

Wilt thou spurn my adoration ? 

Wilt thou turn thy face from me ? 
Give me but thy approbation. 

And I then will happy be. 

This is but a feeble token 

Of affection unto thee ; 
But in love it hath been spoken, 

Then, for it, remember me : 

Yes — remember me, though parted 
We may be on life's bleak main ; 

Yet, if we but prove true-hearted, 
Surely we shall meet again. 

But, perhaps, thou wilt not love me, 
Never cast a smile on me ; 

And thou mayest oft reprove me 
For this pledge of love to thee. 

I may never, never press thee 
To my throbbing bosom more ; 



GREER'S POEMS. 



95 



Never may my lips address thee, 
As they oft have done before. 

Let the world, with all its beauty. 
Never lead thy heart astray 

From the narrow path of duty, 

Nor from " Wisdom's pleasant way.' 

If I never "more should meet thee 
While upon the earth I rove. 

May my happy spirit greet thee. 
In the courts of bliss above ! 



fl Sono. 

Maiden, hear me ! Is it madness 
To divulge my feelings here ? 

No — 'twill ease my heart of sadness, 
While I drop for thee a tear. 

Should I sigh for one who spurns me ? 

Should my bosom thus be grieved ? 
Should my soul, despairing, mourn thee, 

When thou sayest thou art deceived ? 

Ah ! beneath a load of anguish 
I am bowed, both heart and mind, 



96 GREER'S POEMS. 

And my troubled feelings languish 
That I treated thee unkind. 

Have I wronged thee ? If I ever 
Spoke a word to give thee pain, 

Oh, forgive me ! though we never, 
Never more may meet again. 

Have I wronged thee ? If my action 
Ever stung thy heart with wo, 

Then it drives me to distraction, 
For 'twas not intended so. 

Nothing gave me greater pleasure. 
Than to meet thy soft caress ; 

For it seemed to fill the measure 
Of my earthly happiness. 

On thy bosom gently beating, 
I was wont to lay my head, 

While the moments, sweetly fleeting. 
Waked no thoughts of future dread. 

When, with thee, the moments whiling, 
Time did swiftly flow away ; 

When I saw thy bright lips smiling, 
With thee long I wished to stay. 

But we are unjustly parted ; 
Thou art happy, I am not; 



GREER'S POEMS. 



97 



Still, if thou art tender hearted, 
Pity my unhappy lot. 

I would not, dare not, deceive thee, 

Though I had it in my power ; 
No ! not for the world aggrieve thee, 

To destroy thy peace one hour. 

How my breast is wont to tremble 

When my actions I review. 
But it was not to dissemble. 

That I done as I did do : 

In a moment, when unguarded, 
I, perhaps, did wound thy heart, 

And for which I am discarded. 

Spurned — and bade from thee, "depart!" 

Though I am by thee forsaken. 
Though I am despised by thee. 

Yet my faith is still unshaken. 
In thy worth and purity ! 

Not a fault could I discover. 

Not a weakness in thee trace. 
While I sat — a dreaming lover — 

Folded in thy warm embrace. 

Oh, how fleeting are our pleasures! 
Like a vision — scarce our own ; 

I 



98 GREER'S POEMS. 

Now we grasp their spectral treasures; 
In a moment thej are gone. 

When I thought that joy's glad morning 
Brightly dawned upon my sky, 

Then an unexpected warning, 
Omened sorrow's evening nigh. 

Yes! the darkest clouds of sorrow, 
That can gloom the mental view, 

Thicken o'er me now — to-morrow. 
May they wear a milder hue ! 

Friendship's golden chain is broken, 
Ne'er our hearts to bind again ; 

So these words to thee are spoken, 
With commingled grief and pain. 

Were I but an infant, lying 
On my tender mother's knee. 

Then this scourge of grief and sighing, 
Never had been known to me. 

All is vain — more words are needless ; 

And my song is hght as air ; 
All is vain-^-for thou art heedless 

To my language of despair. 

Think, oh ! think not that I loved thee 
More than to respect thee well; 



GREER'S POEMS. 

If I had 'twould not have moved me 
On such theme as this to dwell ! 

With an eye acute, discerning, 
"Woman's ways I closely view ; 

And it sets my bosom burning 
For the ones I deem most true ; — 

Burning — not with lustful fire, 
But affection's soothing flame ; 

And, with her I most admire. 
If I can be, there I am. 

On thy cheek is beauty glowing. 
From thy lips comes melody ; 

From thy heart is goodness flowing, 
In thy glance is witchery. 

While my spirit, lowly kneeling, 
Pours itself to thee in song. 

Something o'er me strangely stealing, 
Says thou wilt redress my wrong. 

Yes ; I claim the kindest blessing 
Which thy goodness can bestow ; 

Wilt thou still, my claim suppressing. 
Leave my heart despairing ? No ! 

Deem not this an idle story, 
Read it o'er and understand ; 



99 



100 GREER'S POEMS. 

And to meet thj soul in glorj, 

Here's my heart and here's mj hand. 

Fare-thee-well ! In this frail token, 
Is not half I wished to tell ; 

But, since friendship's chain is broken, 
Dearest maiden, fare-thee-well ! 



COe DcttfO of an Dft) Man. 

I stood beside the gloomy charnel house, 

That cold and damply opened to receive 

A lifeless form of clay, — a tenement 

That once had animation and a soul. 

Which God, for judgment summoned to his bar: 

It was a being who had borne the blasts 

Of more than fore-score winters, and whose locks 

The mystic frosts of age had silvered o'er. 

The bloom of health once flushed his manly cheek, 

And nerves elastic knit his sturdy frame. 

He lived to see two generations swept 

Away by Time's still onward rolling tide ; 

And in his early years traversed the wild. 

Dense, pathless forests of the western world. 

Where rang the panther's thrilling mid-night scream, 

And savage shouts re-echoed 'mong the hills. 



101 



GREER'S POEMS. 

The storms of dark adversity he braved 
With sternest fortitude ; and in the calm 
Profound of humble resignation met 
Affliction's ruthless darts. Prosperity's 
Effulgent beams illumined oft his path, 
And made his home the central point of joy. 
With honest bosom had he gathered round 
Him comfortable affluence ; and in 
A moral and a fascinating mien, 
Won many hearts to love and him esteem. 
But Death, the ghastly, pallid messenger, 
Dispatched from worlds invisible, stole in; 
At one sad stroke, and cold, relentless grasp 
Of icy arms, he froze his palsied frame. 



Ah, there ! within the coffin chill and stiff, 

And dreamless, lifeless, and inanimate, 

He lies, enfolded in his funeral pall — 

The mournful habit that we all must wear. 

He heeds us not, who stand around his bier, 

And take the last, sad, solemn look upon 

His pale remains ; nor does he hear the sighs, 

And sobs, and shrieks of kindred sorrowing, 

Whose throbbing hearts are bursting nigh with grief; 

Nor sees the bitter tears of the bereaved. 

Who bend, in trembling anguish, o'er his clay, 

Perhaps in silence sending up a prayer 

To Him who called a father from their midst. 

His winning voice is hushed in wakeless sleep, 

l2 



102 



GREER'S POEMS. 



That oft has charmed our ears to list the sweet 
Accents and fluent words fall from his lips, — 
His lips that now are sealed in gluey death. 

And here! oh, solemn spot! among the dead, 

Who sleep in noiseless solitude and calm 

Repose, beneath these grassy mounds; whose flesh 

Devouring worms, in riot, have consumed — 

The yawning tomb its clayey jaws doth gape, 

To gulp into its dark abode, this corse. 

Ah, weeping group ! who circle round its verge, 

Bow o'er the sepulchre, and 'neath thee see 

The coffin fit the yellow vault, — that is 

An awful model of thy final home. 

Hark, to the rumbling of the clods that hide 

It from my sight forever ! Here the hearts 

Of orphans bleed with deeper agony. 

And widows burning tears do flow afresh. 

The chords that linked their hearts together, now 

Are snapped asunder, and thrice vivid pains 

Do seize with aching torment on their souls. 

Eternal God ! I shudder at the thought 
That such a vault, ere long, must be my bed. 
Must such a "lap of earth" my pillow be — 
So dismal that a ray of yonder sun 
Can never penetrate its hidden gloom ? 
Where I, alone, shall slumber till the trump 



GREER'S POEMS. 



103 



Of Gabriel peals the closing inarch of time 
And wakes the earchj dead to meet their judge! 
Almighty ! in thy boundless plenitude 
Of love, and in thy mercy infinite, 
Prepare my soul for such an awful change, 
That when my body falls a prey to death — 
That when I "shuffle off this mortal coil" 
'And "bid this world of sin and wo adieu," 
The grave shall be a welcome screen from sin. 
Whilst o'er immortal charms my soul shall soar. 

Departed veteran ! now I bid a long 

Farewell to thee. The grave hath swallowed thee 

Deep in its lone, tenebrious bounds, again 

To crumble back to what thou wast before. 

The flowers o'er thy pillow oft may bloom 

And pour their odors on the passing breeze. 

But thou shalt gently sleep and know it not. 

The evening dews upon thy grave shall weep, 

And vesper melody around thee float. 

And stars above thee ever shine serene; 

The pale cold moon gleam softly down, as o'er 

The world she sails in queenly majesty; 

The sun for ages over thy abode 

His inextinguishable fires roll ; 

And eyes from other worlds look down upon 

Thy silent dust; and plaintive zephyrs sigh, 

And winds their doleful music sing, and howl 

The thunders wildly through the lowering sky. 



104 



GREER'S POEMS. 



And lightnings flame black midnight's scowling brow; 
But thou art wakeless, heedless to them all. 
Again, with mourning heart and tearful eye, 
I view thy grave and say, farewell, farewell! 



£0 31- 



I hung a captive on thy charms 
And saw a world of joy in thee. 

While thou didst lean upon my arms, 
And sweetly breathe thy love to me. 



Ho 31tttrottret. 

Thy lover rests his head 
From earthly strife and toil, 
Where chilling Winter bleakly spreads 
Its gloomy curtains o'er his bed. 

That is beneath a northern soil. 

How often have I stood 
His peaceful grave beside, 
In evening's genial solitude. 
And dropped a tear in mournful mood 
That such a worthy youth had died ! 



GREER'S POEMS. 



105 



But ah ! why did I weep ? 

Why was my spirit sore ? 
He only closed his eyes in sleep, 
To let his soul exulting leap 

O'er Jordan's waves to Canaan's shore. 

God called him to his rest, 
Where sin can never sting — 

Where pain can never rack his breast ; 

But with the saints of glory blest, 
Eternal anthems he will sing. 

Although the golden chain 
Of love entwined your souls, 

You parted ne'er to meet again 

On life's dark rolling, stormy main ; 

For he was wrecked on death's bleak shoal. 

No tender mother's care 
Could ward the shaft of death; 

No father, brother, sister, there. 

To oflfer up for him a prayer. 

Or weep at his expiring breath. 

No gentle lover's hand 
Was there to close his eyes ; 

And though a stranger in the land. 

His God sent down an angel band 

To bear him company to the skies. 



106. 



GREER'S POEMS. 



Methinks I see him lie 
Upon his couch of pain, 
With palUd cheek and tearful eye, 
The whiles his bosom heaves a sigh 
For one he ne'er shall meet again. 

Oh, stricken one ! I know 
Thy breast shall ever mourn ; 
For who that loves can bear such blow 
And not be plunged 'mid waves of wo. 
To die heart-broken and forlorn. 

Thy Andrew is in heaven ; 

Then, maiden, weep no more. 
But ask thy God to be forgiven. 
That when across life's sea thovUrt driven. 
He'll hail thee on a brighter shore. 



There's not three other words so dear. 

To worthy objects given, 
That sounds so pleasant to the ear 

As mother, home and heaven. 

The infant on its mother's knee 
Looks up with bhssful smile, 



GREER'S POEMS. 107 

And lisps her name most joyfully 
Who dandles it the while. 

The youth who sports his giddy round 

Must often pause and say, 
" My mother ! oh, dehghtful sound — 

She ta,ught me how to pray." 

We should forever while we live 

That blessed name adore; 
For 'tis the mother that can give 

The mind its richest store. 

Her early lessons stamp the soul 

With thoughts that never die ; 
She teaches us our God t' extol, 

Who lives above the sky. 

She with her kind and tender hand 

Makes soft the dying bed ; 
With cheering words at her command, 

She lifts the drooping head. 

When youth's bright day has passed away, 

Our minds incline to roam, 
And whereso'er our course may steer, 

We must remember home. 

Oh, home ! it is the blessed spot 
Where peace and comfort dwell : 



108 



GREER'S POEMS. 



Its joys are those that can't be bought, 
Nor tongue its pleasures tell. 

Around it floats the air of peace, 

And smiles the sunny day. 
It fills the soul with painless ease, 

And drives distress away. 

Love reigns supremely on its throne — 
Hope beams within its breast ; 

Its joys to all are better known 
Than they can be expressed. 

Dark falsehood there must turn aside 
For truth's unspotted glow ; 

Fierce anger, hatred, folly, pride. 
Sink deep in depths below. 

The soldier's mind oft takes its flight 
To childhood's dreamy hours, 

When round his home, in fond delight, 
He cropped the blooming flowers. 

And if he falls beneath the sword, 

To welter in his gore, 
His dying lips will speak these words — 

"My home I'll see no more!" 

The sailor on the watery deep, 
Far, far away from shore, 



OREER'S POEMS. 



109 



When wailing siorras around him sweep, 
And howling: thunders roar. 



o 



He turns his thoughts to mother, home, 

And wishes he were there; 
He'd never venture more to roam 

'Mid dangers and despair. 

Oh, Heaven! What a glorious theme 

That sacred name imparts. 
When down its soft effulgence beams 

Into the waiting heart. 

The pilgrim's eye while wandering here 

Is fixed on things above ; 
He looks beyond this gloomy sphere 

And claims high Heaven's love. 

When death's cold withering arms embrace 

The dying christian's frame, 
And paleness settles on his face, 

His trembling lips exclaim— 

"' That holy word has borne me on 
Through troubles, trials, care ; 

And now ray breath will soon be gone 
And heaven's joys I'll share." 

He passes through the gloomy vale 
And crosses Jordan's tide. 



110 QUEER'S POEMS. 

While heavenly breezes waft his sail, 
And angels are his guides. 

On Canaan's shore he claps his hands 
And shouts, " the war is o'er; 

I've done my Master's whole cominands- 
I'm safe for evermore !" 



A ]Jrtti)er. 

Oh, thou Infinite, Wise and Good, 
Enthroned in majesty above ! 

Who gives me life, and health, and food, 
I thank thee for thy tender love. 

With pity now behold my wo 

And raise me from despondency ; 

Thine arms of mercy round me throw 
While here I bow in prayer to thee. 

On thee I call, for thou canst hear 
My faint petition at thy feet. 

Where deep humihty and fear 
Urge me thy pardon to entreat. 

Not fear of man nor earthly might, 
But of thy holy wrath — of hell, 



GREER'S POEMS 



111 



From which my soul would speed its flight 
Beneath thy wings of love to dwell. 

Oh! thou, alone, who canst upraise 
The bended spirit, hear my plea ; 

Though others scoff, Fll seek thy face, 
And worship and adore but thee ! 

'Tis not for fashion nor display — 
'Tis not for pride nor gaudy show, 

I would presume to kneel and pray 
Thy mercies and thy love to know ; 

But for my sins that tower high — 

The weight of crime which on me lies ; 

Because I fear in guilt to die. 
And fall where I shall never rise. 

Thou hast all power ; thou canst work 
And new-create my stony heart : 

Destroy those fears that in it lurk, 
And bid my anguish all depart. 



The following dreadfiil circumstances occurred in the family of 
the Rev. A. G. Orsbokn, near Uniontown, Fayette County, Pa. 
in June, 1852: 

Mr. and Mrs. O. had been absent some five days at a meeting, 
and returned home in the dusk of the evening. The children, on 



112 



GKBBR'S POEMS. 



hearing the buggy at some distance from the house, ran to meet 
them, when the warmest congratulations ensued. After more 
than ordinary exhibitions of love toward each other, on the part 
both of parents and children, they all returned to the house, where 
the children engaged in the most enrapturing feats of innocent play 
on the grassy yard in front of the door. The solemn shadows of 
night were now settling thickly down upon the world. They 
retired into the house, and, passing from room to room, their little 
hearts seemed overflowing with transports of enjoyment. But alas! 
death was then hovering near to blast their golden joys; for scarcely 
had an hour elapsed, when the father, on calling the family together 
for prayer, a quantity of ethereal oil by accident became ignited, 
and immediately exploded. Mr. 0. and four of his children were 
instantly enveloped in angry flames. He was for a few moments 
stunned into insensibility; but on again recovering his senses, and 
finding himself on a blaze from head to foot, dragged himself across 
the floor and thence into the yard, where he rolled his body upon 
the dewy grass until the fire was extinguished ; then, hearing the 
piteous screams of his burning children, sprang to the door, where 
he met his little son, who was blazing like a torch; he leaped into 
his father's arras, that were extended to receive him ; and there the 
flames were likewise smothered upon him on that soft green sward, 
where, but a short time before, he had sported with such delight. 
Those of the family who had escaped unhurt, by this time had 
quenched the flames upon the other victims. Medical aid was 
speedily called to their relief The lives of the elder two were 
saved; but the other two (a little boy and girl, the one seven and 
the other five years of age) in a few hours afterward expired, with- 
out a struggle or a groan. Mr. 0. was not seriously burned. 

Unfortunate family! torn in one sad moment from the brightest 
heights of earthly enjoyment, and plunged to the darkest depths of 
sorrow, misery and pain. Such a heart-rending scene but seldom 
occurs; and oh! that such were not recorded in the history of 
mankind. The above narrated circumstance called forth the fol- 
owing elegiac verses: 



Alas ! how often are we called to mourn 

The sudden loss of friends — the death of those 

Who bloom like vernal flowers in the morn 

Of life and joy. When frowning Autumn blows 
Its blasting breezes o'er the gentle rose. 



GREER'S POEMS 



113 



It fades and withers in a single day. 

How swiftly vanishes the smile that glows 
So sweetly on its cheek ! No arm can stay 
The power that wildly wastes its charming life away . 

The Lord direct my erring hand, and fill 

My humble heart with love ; and while I sweep 

The strings of my dull harp, its discords still. 
Awake its innate powers that silent sleep, 
That I may pour, by numbers pure and deep, 

(For such is worthy of my theme alone,) 
Reviving influence to those that weep 

The breach misfortune made. Oh, Holy One, 
With wisdom 'lume my soul, that I may error shun 1 

Ye who would sneer at those who mourn, attend 

The song of one whose bosom oft has bled 
For suffering mortals, and whose hand would lend 

Its aid to lift the lowest mourner's head. 

Draw nigh and listen : have you tears to shed ? 
Your hearts, if they be not as ice or stone. 

Must melt to tenderness ; and if not dead, 
Your breasts to sympathy: oh ! look upon 
This picture, while I strike a sympathetic tone. 

Those little cherubs, oh ! how full of bliss 

Were they their parents' glad return to meet, 

And share with rapture the accustomed kiss 
That e're awaited them ; and hear the sweet 

k2 



114 UREER'S POEMS. 

Cadences of a mother's voice repeat 
"Good children," with a wonted smile and tear; 

And on their father's knees to find a seat, 
Where they with mingled prattlings bless his ear, 
Then list in turn some tale of love from him to hear. 

But, ah I while they are dancing round their sire 
With little hearts from thoughts of danger free, 

Behold ! the element of liquid fire 

That moment bursts in flames most wrathfully, 
And curls around them. Heaven ! can it be 

That they must perish ere that smile of love 
Has left their cheeks ? Alas ! methinks I see 

Them writhe and sink ; their dove-Uke bosoms move 
In dying beauty; then their spirits soar above. 

The father, too, with flames is kindled o*er, 
That threaten to destroy his body ere 

They can be smothered. Happily, before 
They pierce his vitals, in their wrath severe, 
They are extinguished. God in mercy here 

Preserves his precious life, and gives him power 
To quench the flames that wrap his Campbell 
dear 

In angry burnings. Wild, distracting hour! 
What sorrows on that family sky begin to lower ! 

Four lovely children and their father dressed 
In flames 1 I startle, and my blood runs cold I 



GREER'S POEMS. 



115 



Is there a human being in whose breast 
Is pity living, even in fancy could behold 
Such scene and tremble not ? Despair untold ! 

One little boj (he died) ah ! see him fly 
To meet his father, whose fond arms enfold 

His fiery form ; he speaks with meaning eye, 
And says in trembling tones, "Oh, papa! will I die?" 

With shrieks of agony the others flew. 

But knew not where they fled; for who, alas! 

That's "burning like a torch" will think or do 
As sober reason would ! And so it was 
Those two loved children were destined to pass, 

Like flowers from our midst, in tender years. 
And 0, how horrible the death! It has 

Been hard to yield them up ; but still this cheers 
Our hearts — they are in heaven! Ah, why our sighs 
and tears? 

Oh, God ! I shudder when my thoughts return 
And dwell upon the scenes of that dread night. 

I see the angry blazes round them burn 

And crisp their tender bodies by their might, 
And scorch their golden curls that waved so 



fe^ 



bright 



And glossy in the breeze that wafted by, 

When out they ran, with transports of delight, 
To meet their parents, while the twilight sky 
Bent o'er them, as it were, to kiss them ere they'd die. 



116 



GREER'S POEMS. 



Upon the grassy sward that eve they played 

Together in a happy group — next day 
Two of them in their shrouds enveloped laid, 

Cold, pale and lifeless as the clay. 

'Twas not in human skill or power to stay 
The hand of death. Above the starry dome 

Methinks I see them swiftly course their way, 
Escorted by a band of angels home — 
There o'er the flowery fields of brighter worlds to 
roam. 

My harp strings scarce will echo to my touch, 
As 'neath a leaden weight my spirit bends ; 

And 0, how frail, how meaningless is such 
A picture to the real scene, which blends 
In one sad moment life and death, and rends 

The sacred golden chords of health that chain 
The family group together? Oh! it sends 

A bitter arrow through my heart. My brain 
Bewildered reels, to contemplate their parting ] ain! 

They have been summoned from a world of rare, 

Where sin and death seem raging evermore. 
The comforts of a better land to share 

And bathe in seas without a rock or shore ; 

Where cymbals, harps, and lutes eternal pi ur 
Their music from the shining hills and bowers 

That skirt the throne of God. Their pain^ are 
o'er. 



URBER'3 POEMS 



117 



Their sufferings done ; and satan's cruel powers 
Can never blast them there — those deathless cherub 
flowers ! 

Bereaved parents ! though jour loss is great 

And seems too hard to bear, 0, dry your tears, 

And with an humble resignation wait 
Until the pallid messenger appears 
To send you home, above all toils and fears, 

Where you shall hail your "little ones" again 
In everlasting blessedness : your ears 

Shall there forever hear their joyful strain, 
With ransomed miUions, roll through heaven's wide 
domain. 

The Lord has taken, in their early days. 

Those guiltless ones to live o'er yonder sky 
Through all eternity ; where songs of praise 

To him swell everlasting melody. 

Oh ! I could weep the tear of sympathy 
For those bereft, if that could bring relief; 

But ah ! in death's cold arms their bodies lie, 
While friends for their departure bend in grief 
Above their dust and mourn : — Ah ! life at length is 
briefl 



118 GREER'S POEMS, 



SOe iltfjcist. 

^^ There is no G-od,^^ the atheist exclaims! 

Ah, fool! who made yon flaming sun, and sent 

Him rolling in his glorv round the skies ? 

Who arched that clear cerulean dome above 

Thy head — elastic, boundless, beautiful? 

Who made the moon that nightly walks her path 

Of azure o'er the vaulted canopy. 

And sprinkled boundless space with glittering stars? 

Who marked the fiery comet's course among 

The orbs of heaven, and wheels him thundering on. 

From age to age, through groups of shining worlds ? 

Who sends the howling tempest, dashing forth 

With black destruction in its horrid front, 

Wild desolation hurling from his hands ? 

Who meteors tosses through immensity, 

And twirls the dazzling lightnings from the clouds ? 

Who opes the hoary mountain's hideous jaws 

And pours from forth the rumbling depths of earth 

An ocean-gush of fire against the skies ? 

Who framed thy agile form, so sensitive. 

Thy sparkling eyes, so full of native fire ; 

Thy tender cheek, touched with the rose's tints, 

And painted on thy lips the ruby's hues? 

Thy sinewy hands, which, when exerted, can 

Mow forests down, and build stairways to heaven; 



GREER'S POEMS. 



119 



Can tame the hissing lightnings, and reach down 
And tear the heart-strings from thy mother earth ? 

From whence that mind insatiate of thine ? 

From whence that principle within thy heart, 

That tells thee it will live forevermore ? 

Is Chance the mighty architect ? and did 

He build creation with such wondrous skill, 

And breathe into thy nostrils breath of life? 

Say, is it Chance that clothes the fields with grass — 

Enrobes the forests in their beauteous green, 

And lifts the gentle flowers from the earth? 

That sends the fountains purling from the hills — 

The rivers roUiug in their majesty. 

And walled the chiming oceans in with rocks ? 

That sends Niag'ra's waters thundering o'er 

The awful precipice ; whose voice has shook 

Astonished millions as they heard and gazed? 

Piled hill on hill till mountains lift their heads 

Above the clouds, and lean them on the skies? 

Ah! was it Chance that dropt that gem of truth — 
The Bible, precious volume ! from above ; 
That sacred Book that must reform the world? 
If so perchance there is a God, whose Son 
Was scourged and crucified on Calvary ! 
Perchance thou hast a soul that shall appear 
Before a Judge, Creator, Cause of All, 
And there, with all its vile deformity — 
Its crime, its unbehef and wretchedness. 



120 G^RlSER'S POEMS. 

Beneath the vengeance of an angry God, 
Be thrust away into eternal hell! 

When thou art brought upon a bed of death, 

Then light and truth from the eternal world 

Will burst upon thy guilty soul, that thou 

Art lost — forever lost, condemned and damned, 

Because of unbelief within thy heart. 

See Voltaire, Volney, Paine and Bolingbroke: 

They died convinced; so many others have; 

And while they writhed in death, they owned a God, 

And heard hell's surges thunder 'neath their feet ! 

Dread, everlasting leap into the dark ! 

A plunge that ne'er shall cease, but ever down 

Will tend, far into utter misery ! 

A flight from earth and all its lovely scenes. 

From joys terrestrial, companions, friends; 

From heaven, angels, God, and endless bliss. 

To herd with hypocrites and murderers, 

With thieves, and blasphemers, and liars, damned! 

Oh ! is there no reality in joy ? 

And is religion but an empty dream ? 

What makes the christian, in the jaws of death, 

Shout hallelujah, but the love of God? 

Who ever died in sin with praise upon 

His tongue, nor from the ruthless monster shrunk? 

Let nature speak: — The zephyrs whispering through 
The groves at twilight's peaceful hour; the brooks 
That wind along the vales ; the crystal streams 



GREER'S P OEMS. 121 

That wash the mouritam sides ; the joyous birds 
That flap the scented air from morn till even ; 
The rivers, oceans, sun, moon, stars, and clouds, 
And thunders, — all proclaim a sovereign God, 
But vaunting, unbelieving, skeptic man ! 
Oh, rebel worm! thy puny arm's too short 
To pluck the great Jehovah from his throne ; 
So turn, repent, believe, and thou shalt live. 



On tf)e Bctttf) of a IJouiifl Ctibi). 

Alas, she is no more ! Her heart is cold 
And pulseless, — lifeless as the yellow^ clay 

In which it moulders, — we no more behold 
Her graceful form, nor hear the melting lay 
Pour from her lips, that charmed the soul away ; 

Those eyes, so full of love and joy, now sleep 
To wake no more until that awful day, 

When the Archangel's trumpet-voice shall sweep 
Its mighty thunder-tones through nature's startled 
deep. 

It must be sweet to die the Christian's death. 
And say to earth and all its woes. Adieu ! 

To yield to God the prayer-incensed breath. 
While heaven and all its glories heave in view ; 



122 G REER'S POEMS. 

Then doth the soul through every avenue 
Of the dissolving body, haste to be 

Eliberated, that it may pass through 

The lonely vale of death, and swiftly flee, 

With harp new-strung, to sing eternal victory. 

Thus thou didst pass, fair maiden ! in the bloom 
Of youth and beauty, to a higher sphere. 

Where Satan, sin, death, grief, nor sorrow's gloom 
Have ever entered yet to wring a tear 
From those that cluster there amid the clear 

Effulgence beaming from Jehovah's face ; 

Yes, thou dost breathe the pleasant atmosphere, 

Sweet with Elysian odors, and embrace 
Ten thousand pleasures in that high and holy place. 

The fairest flower that blooms must fade and die, 
However sweet and full of loveliness ; 

So death will close and seal the brightest eye, 
And paleness on the ruby lip impress : 
Oh, lovely girl! thy every silken tress 

Has been a home for worms, in that abode 

Where thou wast laid in thy last earthly dress, 

By many, who their gushing tears bestowed 
Upon thy dust — thy spirit lives at home with God. 

The words thou spakedst on thy dying bed — 

" There's none but Jesus I desire to see " — 
Forbid thy friends a hitter tear to shed. 



GREER'S POEMS. 123 

But tell them thej shall meet again with thee, 
When they have crossed life's dark and stormy sea. 
What cheering language, fated girl! thou' st given 

To those that cherish still thy memory ! 
There is a chord, when earthly ties are riven, 
To link our souls to those who've passed before to 
heaven. 

Gone, fragile girl ! and we are left behind, 

To linger yet a season on the shore 
Of time, where lashing wave and howling wind 

Sweep ever with a wild, tumultuous roar. 

Oh, that, like thee, our troubles here were o'er, 
That we could course our journey to the skies. 

And hail our happy friends who've passed before 
To endless bliss, and claim the christian's prize — 
A crown of stars — and feel that joy that never dies ! 



fl Song. 

Dearest girl ! we now are parted. 
Though we truly still are friends ; 

For I know thou art true hearted, 
And with thine my spirit blends. 

Think not that love's tie is broken ; 
No, it ne'er can sundered be, 



124 



GREER'S POEMS 



For this is to thee a token, 
That I'll e'er remember thee. 

Oh ! what hours of sacred pleasure, 
I have spent with thee, dear maid ! 

Drank of joy's inspiring treasure, 
Rested in its balmy shade. 

First I saw thee where two lovers 

At the nuptial altar met: 
Oh, how oft my spirit hovers 

'Mid that scene of beauty yet! 

Oh, the walk we had together, 
On that evening mild and fair ! 

Cloudless was the balmy weather; 
Cloudless was our ramble there. 

Far along the lane traversing, 
Shaded in the twihght grey. 

Fondly each to each conversing — 
Thus the party roamed away. 

Cynthia poured a silvery ocean 
Softly from her azure throne ; 

And the stars, as in devotion. 

Guttered through the ether dome ; 

And the breeze was sweetly freighted 
With the early flowers' perfume ; 



GREER'S POEMS. 125 

And the scene me so elated, 

That it banished, quite, all gloom. 

Morpheus spread his wings of slumber 

Softly o'er mj happy brow : 
Oh ! the times are without number. 

That I've thought of thee as now : 

For, in lonely meditation. 

As the Muse instructeth me, 
All my thoughts have concentration. 

And they're centered all in thee. 

I, in silence, now am thinking ; 

Of our meetings do I dream ; 
Closer still my soul is linking 

To thee, as I swell my theme. 

Friendship still to thee I cherish. 
And, though we may never meet, 

Yet, until my memory perish. 
Will my dream of thee be sweet. 

Hope within my soul's embalming 

Relics thou hast given me ; 
Love my troubled breast is calming, 

As I meditate of thee ! 

Oft I walk in calm reflection 
In the stilly shades of night, — 

l2 



126 



GREER'S POEMS. 



Then, in tender recollection, 
Doth my soul with tliine unite. 

When the gentle breezes whisper. 
And the stars do smile on thee. 

View the mildly waning vesper, 
View it and — remember me! 

And, when thou, amongst the flowers 

At the rosy morning stray. 
Or, at even roam the bowers. 

Think of me^ though far away. 

Every waft of memory bringeth 

Some sweet thought, dear girl, of thee 

Yes, my memory to thee clingeth 
With undying constancy. 

As the hours away are stealing — 
Ah ! how speedily they flit — 

Some fond thought of thee revealing, 
Whispers, I shall meet thee yet. 

Though a cloud did once come o'er us, 
Dimming our afiections bright. 

Yet behind, and not before us, 
It has vanished from our sight. 

Not a shade is now between us; 
Not a wave on love's pure deep ; 



GREER'S POEMS. 

As the angels first had seen us, 
So they our affections keep. 

Oh ! I never will forget thee 

While my Saviour lends me breath ; 
Glad that I on earth have met thee ; 
- May I meet thee after death. 

I must quit my song and leave thee ; 

Rest awhile my pensive brow; 
But thy absence oft must grieve me, 

As our parting grieves me now. 

Thy remembrance long shall brighten, 
E'en till hoary is my head ; 

Then it shall in beauty heighten ; 
Yea, until my dream is fled. 

When thou art in prayer kneeling, 
Oh ! wilt thou remember me ; 

Ask the balm that is all-healing, 
On this humble worm, and thee ! 

BelEy pleasure blighted, never — \ 
Angels guard thee here below ; ' 

Be thy trust in God forever ; 
Seek alone B.i% face to know. 

Earthly joys are transitory. 
Light and empty as the air; 



127 



128 



GREER'S POEMS. 



Then why not aspire to glory, 
Where eternal comforts are? 

May thy Saviour ever charm thee 
By the glories of his love ; 

May the wicked never harm thee 
Till we meet in heaven above ! 

Could I in my arms enfold thee, 
And with thee a moment dwell ! 

But I cannot now behold thee. 
So must say to thee — farewell ! 



£0^ Brunfiarb. 

I saw him reehng from the grog-shop door, 
With fiery eyes and red and bloated cheek ; 
He staggered like a vessel on the sea, 
About to plunge beneath the rushing waves, 
And sink forever in the gloomy deep ; 
His tongue was heavy, yet he cursed his God, 
And muttered threatenings against his friends, 
With thoughts of murder burning in his heart. 
I turned away and would have shunned the sight, 
But pity bade me look again : he fell. 
And wallowed in the mire ; and e'en the swine 
That passed him by appeared to loathe his form. 



GREER'S POEMS 



129 



And hasted from his presence in disgust. 

Oh, miserable man ! descend so low 

As thus to be despised and loathed by beasts ! 

I paused and thought — Alas ! that man should run 
The roughest road to ruin, when the smoothest course 
Is set with thorns and snares, and swept with storms 
Of pains and difficulties; that where peace 
And happiness are offered, if he choose ; 
Where length of days, where honor and renown, 
Love, glory, greatness, wisdom, strength, applause, 
Wealth, beauty, worthy friends, affection, all. 
He can obtain, if Virtue's path he treads. 
And fills the wise commands of nature's God ;— 
He rushes from them all o'er thorns and goads, 
Adown the gloomy path of sin and shame, 
To burn forever in Jehovah's wrath, 
And plunge among the wailing damned in hell ! 
I start alarmed at such a thought, and cry 
To the inebriate — Return, return! 
Before thy everlasting doom is sealed. 
And thou art merged in that long night of death. 
Through which no beam of day shall ever gleam. 

A drunkard is the meanest thing that lives — 
No act too vile, no language too obscene, 
No oath too black, nor thought too desperate, 
For him to father as his bosom pet. 
Or run with eagerness to perpetrate. 
With passions fired by perdition's torch, 



130 UllEER'S i'OEMS. 

And seven devils dancing in his heart, 

He'd stamp the laws of God beneath his feet, 

Would dash aside the human code, and spill 

The blood of innocence, unmortified. 

Nothing above the burning pit of hell. 

So near the pit, and fitted for its flames. 

As drunken man. Not even fit is he 

To herd with swine, much less his fellow-man. 

His heart is ripe for ruin ; and his soul 

Transforms from likeness of divinity. 

Into the fearful image of a fiend. 

Among the howling damned in Erebus 

He deepest sinks, embraced by endless death, 

And tortured by the "worm that never dies;" 

Tormented, goaded, cursed forevermore. 

A Drunkard ! who would so debase himself 
As to be called a drunkard? who would sell 
His soul to Satan for a life of wo. 
And an inheritance in nether hell ? 
Are wretchedness, disgrace, and double death 
To be prefered to honor, happiness, 
A peaceful life on earth, and, most of all, 
A home at last in heaven ? Oh, truly not ! 
And yet the former, countless thousands choose. 
A drunkard is the link 'twixt earth and hell ; 
A fleshly demon and a bloat of crime ; 
A murderer of pleasure and of time ; 
He gropes his way in darkness and in pain, 
And mocks at innocence and virtue slain : 



GREER'S POEMS. 



131 



With foul contempt spurns Christianity, 
And yet the Saviour spilt his blood, that he 
Might live forever in his arms of love, 
In that bright world of happiness above ! 



JHusirifls of tt Sinner. 

Oh ! why my heart so cold and feelingless ? 

It once was warm with love's inspiring flame ; 
But I was wooed in paths of wickedness, 

JD^ntil I cursed^^hr^great Redeemer's name : 

I lot ed t^/lfnger in the nouse of God, 

^ praise was given to the Lord on high ; 
And there \my youthful head sincerely bowed, 
While tears -of-|fenitence suffused my eye. 

The gospel melted then my tender soul ; 

Its saving truths how fondly did I hear ; 
But now, alas ! its warning thunders roll 

With wakeless echoes on my slumb'rous ear : 

Why is it thus ? I would it were not so ! 

Is mercy's door forever on me barred ? 
And shall my grieving spirit never know 

Religion's joys — the christian's great reward? 



132 GKEER'S POEMS. 

Christian's reward? 0, yes! for iu this world 
'Tis Uke a lamp to guide his wandering way : 

'Tis as a shield when scathing darts are hurled : 
It opens to his eyes eternal day ; — 

Eternal day? Yes; that's his last reward, 

When he has crossed the stream of Jordan o'er ; 

There, on the bosom of his blessed Lord, 
His weary head will rest forevermore. 

Lord, I believe thy sacred word divine, 
And pray thee to bestir my latent heart ; 

Let thy awakening spirit it incline 

To seek thy way, and from it ne'er depart. 

If thou art. Lord, indeed the sinner's friend. 
If thou canst set the slave from bondage free, 

If thou dost answer prayer, 0, wilt thou send 
Thy pardoning grace to one so vile as me ? 

Thy " spirit shall not always strive with man," 
Then, ere it take its everlasting flight 

From this cold breast of mine, once more again 
I ask thee to bestow its living light. 

From sin to sin I have been lured along. 
By the great tempter of the human soul : 

I've chased his phantoms, heard his syren song, 
Until I'm bound beneath his dread control. 



GREER'S POEMS. 



133 



As 'gainst the rocks the rolling billows sweep, 
So dark remorse for guilt has lashed my heart ; 

And as the thunders of the surging deep, 

The voice of Heaven says, "from sin depart!" 

And as the vapors darken o'er the sky, 
Thus sorrow shrouds my bosom in dismay ; 

And as the sun is clouded from the eye, 
So heaven hides from me its holy ray. 

Eternal Spirt! draw aside the veil 

That hides my Saviour from my streaming eyes ; 
Waft, waft this way a heaven-incensed gale. 

And bear my drooping thoughts toward the skies. 



This hfe's a dream of joy and sorrow: 
We hve to-day and die to-morrow. 



8ono of tOe trufi) ]Jiou5. 

This house of clay must soon decay 

And moulder in the tomb; 
But trouble's storm can ne'er alarm 

It in that silent gloom, 

The monster, Death, may steal my breath. 
And hush this stammering voice, 



134 



GREER'S POEMS. 



But I shall rise above the skies, 
Forever to rejoice. 

There, on the wing, I'll soar and sing 
O'er flowery fields abroad, 

And with delight in glory bright. 
Behold my Saviour, God. 

There ne'er again shall racking pain 
Through this frail system dart, 

Nor grief destroy my peace and joy, 
Nor dn pollute my heart. 

I there will string my harp and sing 
Around my Jesus' feet, — 

Will chant his praise in holy lays, 
Along the golden street. 

Oh, blessed thought ! to have a lot 
With the redeemed above; 

There to adore, forevermore. 
The God of truth and love ! 

Roll on that day when I can say 

Farewell to every care. 
And go to rest on Jesus' breast, 

And breathe Elysian air. 

Yes; I shall meet his presence sweet, 
And lean upon his arms ; 



GREER'S POEMS. 

And ever free my eyes shall be 
To view unfading charms. 

I shall behold a throne of gold, 
Where God, the Father reigns ; 

And with the throng will raise my song 
To him in gladdest strains. 

Oh! shed abroad, almighty God, 
Within my heart more love ; 

And when I leave this world, receive 
Me home to thee above. 



135 



^(oe me Sofitu&e. 

Oh! let me ih soUtude wander alone, 
Where the voice of the populace never was heard, 
Nor the lumining beams of the sun ever shone. 
And list to the song of the wild mountain bird. 

Among the tall chffs where the green waving pine, 
In the breath of the zephyrs majeatic'ly sway, 
And sweet-scented blossoms the ledges entwine. 
There, musing, in silence I fondly would stray: 

Or up where the ivy-clad rocks hang aloft. 
And the thick tangled laurels of centuries grow. 



136 



GREER^S POEMS. 



In lone meditation I'd list to the soft 
Mellow murmurs of rivulets dancing below : 



o 



On tte moss-covered granite, there — there would 

I sit, 
Beneath the green arches so loftily spread, 
And watch the gay warblers in merriment flit, 
And sing their love-sonnets high over my head. 

Oh! there the bright Muses my song would inspire 
To sing of the pleasures I'll witness no more ; 
And breathe in my bosom a heavenly fire. 
As I'd rove on hght pinions to seasons of yore. 

How sweet is the memory of life's early dawn, 
When streams of enjoyment refreshed my young 

soul ! 
But alas ! like a vapor they've vanished and gone, 
And sorrow's dark ocean seems o'er me to roll! 

I glory to ramble in morning's gay hours, 

'Mong roses and lilies all shining with dew, 

And hear the pure music that rings from the bowers. 

Of birds giving praise to their Maker, anew: 

On pinions of rapture the soul must arise^ 
And higher and higher exultingly soar, 
In night's stilly watches to view the broad skies^ 
By Almighty wisdom with worlds spangled o'er: 



GREER'S POEMS. 



137 



I love the reflection — extremely sublime — 

How the "stars of the morning" their glad anthems 

sung, 
When, into mid vacuum, enveloped in time, 
The earth by the hands of Jehovah was hung ! 

Adown in the valley, where once was my home, 
Where nature has spread her soft carpets of green, 
I there would return, and in solitude roam, 
In sweet recollection of life's early scene : 

'Twas there my young bosom first felt a love-thrill, 
As with my companions I danced on the maze, 
And heard iterating from hill o'er to hill, 
The music of nature — enrapturing lays ! 

There, tenantless, stands the loved cot of my child- 
hood, 
Low down in the dale where the pure water ghdes. 
That murmurs from out of the deep shady wildwood, 
And willows stoop lowly and drink from its sides. 

In transports of glory, when earth's multitude 
Is silently slumbering on beds of repose, 
I wander, all lonely, to vast solitude, 
And feast on the beauties its hours disclose. 

Oh ! give to me solitude w^here I may view. 
In unbroken stillness, the deep of my soul: 

m2 



138 



ttREER'S POEMS. 



And call on mj Saviour to frame it anew, 
And reign in its temple with perfect control I 



E^P SOunher Storm. 

The sun his route diurnal had performed, 
And o'er the western hill-tops dimly now 
Was seen, himself imbedding, as it were, 
Among the golden fringes of a cloud. 
That had appearance of a mountain huge, 
Toward the sky its black bulk rearing up. 
Converging to a perfect calm, upon 
The world a stillness rested : beasts were mute, 
Nor birds did utter songs among the bowers. 
All human creatures seemed to pause awhile, 
As conscious of impending terror near. 
This deep, untaciturnal silence, why ? 
Why airy minstrels cease your mellow notes ? 
Why hangs this awful stillness o'er the world ? 
Why every leaflet so profoundly still ? 
Is Nature dead, and you her funeral pall. 
Slow spreading far around from north to south ? 
Or does she only hold her breath awhile. 
To expirate a consternating gust? 
Why dismal shadows limn the western skies ? 
Why roll those billowy cohimns up on high, 



GREER'S POEMS. 



139 



And tumble each o'er each in horrid rage ? 

An awful tumult lurks where yonder cloud 

Uptowers tall, the heavens e'en to scour. 

It seems as though a dreadful world of gloom 

Were nurstled on the ebon lap of night, 

Forth wheeling, all, upon the Tempest's car, 

To dye the earth in black, indelible. 

Like warring serpents how its edges writhe, 

Commingling curl with convoluting curl ; 

And down among its pitchy banks, how peep 

The horrid lightnings out! The thunders — hear 

Them growling back amid the gloom, hoarse, deep, 

And mutterino; far alono; the blackenino; mass I 

Ah, what unearthly bass they roll, aback 

Among the caverns of the murky heap ! 

Oh, what a solemn gown the earth puts on 

To-night, whose pockets hold Jove's thunder-bolts ! 

Behold! around the selvage of the cloud, 

Vast serrata gaps abruptly open wide. 

As eager to emit an inward flood. 

And saturate an agitating world. 

See! how the steeds, excited, circle round 

The fields, and prance and shake their flowing manes ; 

The cattle toss their heads erect and run 

Bewildered as the thunders round them roll. 

More horrid far than battle's fiercest rage. 

When phalanxed cannons belch big noise and flame, 

The thunders peal and lightnings flash around. 



140 



GREER'S POEMS. 



The gloomy monster, reeling onward, comes, 
Huge bluff confronting bluff, then 'sunder tears, 
And from its folds, enormous, torrents pours, 
As if great Ocean had forsook her bed 
To circumnavigate and wash the world. 
Behold ! the sturdy hills are bowed before 
The devastating storm ; and see ! the oaks 
Upon the ground in myriad splinters dashed : 
The howling tempest fiercely tears them up, 
And, tangling into overwhelming drifts. 
They reel and thunder down the rugged slopes! 

The light is swallowed up 'mong sable gloom. 

That thickens deep as primal night; and now 

'Tis dark as Egypt's smitten hills, and wild 

As Death's cold fingers clutching round the heart, — 

Save now and then a fiery shaft glows down 

Among the pathless black, and roars aloud, 

Till nature seems to tremble all around. 

As though the ague clung her flouncing frame : 

Ah ! now they dart their ragged tongues through all 

The air, and twirl along the canopy! 

The vales are gorged with hideous noise, that rolls 

And jowers back and forth from hill to hill. 

And rumbles upward to the doleful clang 

Of traverse blazers echoing on high : 

Rock groans to rock, trunk howls to trunk, and fierce 

The thunders roar, the glittering lightnings play, 

Cloud rolls on rolling cloud, hill howls to hill. 



OREER'S POEMS 



141 



Why this amazing elemental war? 

Jehovah has unreined the winds, and let 

The jangling storm-hounds loose : hst, how they barky 

While roaming madlj o'er the billowy skies 

And rave among the weaving forests, wild 1 

God writes his power with a stream of fire 

And rides in majesty upon the storm. 

Destruction blooms in every thunderbolt, 

And ruin marks the foot-steps of the blast : — 

And still the wild thunder was heard to resound, 
As though a huge mountain were hurled from its bed. 

To crush down the hills with a ponderous bound, 
And vent consternation as onward it sped. 

The red lightnings flashed from their home in the 
clouds, 

As if they would kindle the world in a glare ; 
And fiercer and fiercer the wind shrieked aloud, 

Carousing and rushing, the forests to tear. 

The waters are tossing and churning to foam. 
And heaving big surges high up on the shore : 

They loosen their rocks from their long solid home, 
And tumble them down with a dash and a roar. 

Ah ! list to the creaks of the old tower walls 

As they sway to and fro in the might of the gale ; 

Hark, hark ! to the crashing — they totter — they fall. 
While from them arises a piteous wail. 



142 



QRBER'S POEMS. 



Aurora broke forth in the orient skies, 

And lulled were the elements calmly to sleep; 

But look at the tower — in ruin it lies, 

And scores gather round it, in pity, to weep. 

Down deep in the ruins, where arm cannot save, 
A vast congregation lies mangled and crushed ; 

The thunders left, howling a dirge o'er their grave ; 
The wind shrieked a farewell, then sullenly hushed. 



SOe Concr's ilbbress to ^is Ca&i) 

Most charming creature in t he world! 
In thee- perfeetieir^mh unfurled 
Her tints of beauty, grace, and love. 
And formed thee gentle as th^e dove. 

Thy soul its pureness from it throws. 
As fragrance from the opening rose 
Is wafted on the breeze's wings. 
To sweeten all surrounding things. 

Upon thy fair, angelic face 
The brightest lines of love I trace ; 
And through thine orbs of violet blue 
I glance — and see thy heart is true. 



GREER'S POEMS. 143 

The lily in the morning's beams, 
When dew of heaven on it gleams, 
Is not so fair, dear girl, as thee, 
Nor purer than thou seemest to be. 

The rose, with all its fragrance crowned, 
So sweet as thee, is nowhere found ; 
And stars that twinkle in the sky. 
Are not the rivals of thine eye. 

A single glance from thee, alone. 

Will thrill the heart though hard as stone, 

And softly touch its latent strings. 

Till music back to thee it flings. 

A word from thee will sweetly roll 
In lovely accents o'er the soul. 
And tune its chords to melody, 
Till they re-echo back to thee. 

Queen Cynthia robed in silvery light, 
And seated on the throne of night, 
Hath not so fair a face as thine — 
Nor all the hosts that round her shine. 

Thy beauteous lips upon them wear 
A tinge more bright than rubies are ; — 
How can they speak a note of guile. 
For on them sits an angel's smile ? 



144 



tSREER^S POEMS. 



A smile — I pause— -my harp is still ; 
It fails to serve me at my will ! 
A smile ! my heart begins to swell, 
And pants with thee awhile to dwell. 

A smile — 0, harp, awake, awake! 
I'll touch a chord that forth shall break 
In loftier strains than bards of old, 
E'er sounded on their harps of gold, 

A smile — it fires my inmost soul, 
And makes its centre as the goal 
From whence emotions blest arise, — 
A bliss that lives and never dies. 

A smile — I start to see it move. 

As emblematic of the love 

Which thou dost cherish, sure, for me. 

And which none other should but thee. 

Aloft, on flowery wings I rove, 
And dip my pen in fire of love 
To write of thee, as fair a flower 
As ever gemmed Columbia's bower. 

O, Muse, descend! my song inspire, 
And breathe upon my tingling lyre, 
That I may sing of whom my soul 
Must now and evermore extol. 



GREER'iS POEMS. 



145 



I bow before thy presence fair, 
And lift my heart in silent prayer 
For guardian angels to descend 
And both our souls together blend ; 

And then like doves our future hours 
We'll spend 'mong amaranthine bowers, 
And perfect love will be our theme 
Till we must quit life's fleeting dream ; 

Then up on high where angels dwell 
Our harps anew we'll touch and swell, 
And bloom in peace forever there. 
Where everlasting pleasures are. 



R (EriOute to tOe JllouonpOefa Kiiicr. 

How long, bold river! hast thou rolled thy way 
Among these hills that rise along thy shores 
And open their rough bosoms to thy face? 
Here nature high has reared her battlements 
And laid her breast-works firmly at thy sides. 
To wall thy waters in, and on them set 
Her regiments of giant oaks. Here thou 
Art cradled in the fertile vale, where swarms 
Of happy beings move in joyous life, 
And treasures seem abundant as thy sands. 



146 GREEK ,S POEMS. 

Here thou hast tossed, and dashed, and rolled against 
The rock-ribbed shores with stunning waves, and sung 
Thy anthems to the sweeping winds, and heaved 
Thj troubled bosom to the frowning clouds. 
I've seen thee beat the rocks with surges mad ; 
And, too, I've seen thee send thy billows out 
And drag the banks into thy fearful depths. 
Thy breath has wet the verdant hills, and dewed 
The foliage on thy ever lovely shores ; 
And thou hast flowed in majesty along. 
When far away from thee the tempests slept. 
Or bellowed fiercely over other realms. 
When this proud land was all a wilderness 
The tawny wild-man sported on thy breast. 
And filled the vale with whoops of savage glee. 
The wood then bloomed as nature spread it out; 
Nor hand of art had ere disturbed a bough, 
Or touched this vast domain with ax or spade ; 
And now a nation, unexcelled in strength, 
Has made ''the wilderness to bloom," and hung 
The stars and stripes on every teeming hill ; 
Reared Freedom's glorious standard to the sun. 
Till kings and tyrants, despots, demagogues, 
From earth's remotest hill tops, wondering, gaze — 
And soon must drop their chains and imitate. 

Ere Providence had sent the giant. Art, 
With sinewy arm to sweep the woods away; 
Ere Agriculture drove her iron share 



GREEll'S POEMS. 



147 



Through blest America's luxuriant soil, 

The flowers smiled, uncropt, upon the hills, 

And breathed their sweetness on the breeze in vain; 

For dark, untutored minds could not enjoy 

Perfume, but rather sought the field of war 

To scent the blood of those they loved to slay . 

But what a change a century has wrought ! 

Where once the Indian scouted through the wood 

And hurled his arrow at the timid deer. 

The yellow corn is waving on the plain ; 

And on thy lucid breast, fair river! where 

The savage plied his homely oars, in bark 

Canoe, and sailed at pleasure o'er thy waves 

Away, or floated on thy surface calm. 

The gallant steamer plows her onward course, 

And from her prow sends foam and spray abroad 

In angry whirls, as though she'd split thy depths 

^nd chase the waves in fury up the hills. 

Or dash them into mist against the rocks 

That hold the steeps from tumbling into thee ! 

I love to see her cleave the flood, and toil. 
And plunge, and urge along the surging tide, 
And send a whistle, e'en so shrill abroad 
That breaks the silence of surrounding miles — 
To which the beasts and birds are shocked to list ; 
Even man's stout bosom thrills her voice to hear. 
I love to stand upon thy beach when eve's 
Dim shadows gather gently o'er the earth. 
And hear the leaves come rustling from the oaks 



148 



GREER'S POEMS. 



And twit their mournful music as they fall, 
Circling and slow, upon thj waveless breast. 

When the pale moon, in silvery mantle dressed, 

The eastern steeps of ether slowly chmbs, 

And pours a mellow flood of light across 

The towering trees upon thy glassy face, 

I feel constrained to ramble at thy side 

And hold communion with the glorious scene — 

With solitude, and, more than all, my God. 

I love to walk thy pebbly beach in deep 

And solemn meditation, w^hen the winds 

Are hushed, and all the world seems lulled to rest, 

Save my own tread upon the moistened leaves 

That withered at the frost's chill breath, and gaze 

Upon thee, sacred water ! for thou hast 

A chain of holy mem'ries linked with thee! 

A thousand years ago, these very hills. 
At morn and even, shadowed thee as with 
Protecting wings; and dimpled thy fair cheek 
The zephyrs, as they sported from the shores. 
Where they had wantonly the flowers fanned. 
And with the herbage on thy borders played. 
And o'er the great highway ethereal 
Where tempests gallop in their fury forth. 
Wild clouds have woven dismal webs of gloom. 
Surcharged wdth mighty thunders ripe to roar 
And split the very winds and darkness through 
With hissing shafts that fairly scorched thy waves 



GREER'S POEMS. 



149 



With blasting heaps of golden glare and flame, 

Piled in the blackness, threatening to pall 

The trembling world as for a fiery tomb; — 

All this, fair river! passed thy notice when 

Thou wert but young on earth's sequestered lap. 

The melody of thy bright waves is sweet: 

It rises to the skies as paradigm 

For chiming stars above to imitate. 

How wild thy shores, and yet how beautiful! 

Happy Columbia's sons who tread thy banks, 

Or ride upon thy softly rolling tide ! 

And o'er thee, too, has rolled the cannon's boom, 

Till trembled with alarm these lofty hills 

Are hoarsely echoed back the horrid bass 

In triple thunders on the murdering ranks: 

Then smoky clouds curled o'er the gloomy cliifs, 

And dismal shadows on thy bosom cast: 

And thou didst flush with tides of human gore 

That hissed profusely from most valiant hearts, 

And gurgled down thy banks in smoking floods, 

Or clotted in the skirting grove, thy blush 

To still prolong, as 'shamed of actions such. 

Then lion-hearted heroes, struggling, fell, 

Upon whose flesh voracious vultures fed; 

And greedy wolves gnawed at their mingled bones, 

Then left them bleaching on the field of strife. 

Time's locks are growing white with age, but thou. 
Most lovely stream, art fair as when the stars 

n2 



150 



GREER'S POEMS. 



Of morning sung their anthems in the skies. 

Unchanging ever roll thy onward course, 

And dauntless front thy sister elements. 

Though they may war, and drive, and howl in wild 

Commotion to and fro, and growl and shriek 

Unearthly sounds to thee, and to these bluffs. 

Untarnished in thy splendor onward glide, 

For thou dost wear unrivalled loveliness. 

A gem thou art of Ocean, sparkling in 

The happy heart of young America ! 

A mirror set in earth's broad bosom, for 

The sun, and moon, and stars to peep into ! 

A stream that God has poured for centuries 

From famed Virginia's hills, to gambol on 

Forever in its majesty sublime ! 



Zo iOttrriet. 

I have heard the zephyrs sighing 

As they floated softly by. 
When the shades of night were nighing- 

Dimly spreading o'er the sky. 

I have heard the turtle cooing, 

And the happy mimic sing, 
And the lark its song renewing, • 

As the morn-cloud wet its wing. 



GREER'S POEMS 



151 



I have heard the tempest sweeping — 

Howhng o'er field and wood, 
And have roamed where nature, sleeping, 

Formed unbroken solitude. 

I have heard the thunder breaking. 
Heavy, harsh, tremendous, dread; 

And have seen the lightnings streaking 
All the arch above my head. 

I have heard the torrent roaring 

As it on in fury drove, 
And have seen the water pouring 

From the low'ring clouds above. 

I have seen the cat'ract dashing. 
Pitching o'er the rocky steep — 

Plunging, raging, whirling, splashing, 
Down amid the foaming deep. 

I have seen the moon in splendor 
Wading o'er the shades of night. 

With a glance so mild and tender. 
Streaming far her silver light. 

I have gazed with deepest pleasure 

At the starry hosts on high. 
Twinkling in the boundless measure 

Of the blue expanded sky. 



162 



GREER'S POEMS. 



I have rambled througli the bowers, 
When the birds with sonnets gaj 

Fluttered 'mong the opening flowers 
At the rosy dawn of daj. 

Nature's works are truly splendid — 
Day, night, forest, field and sky ; 

These, with all their beauty blended, 
Now I view with mental eye : — 

But there is a gem of nature 
Fairer than all else I've seen, — 

Angels' smiles in every feature — 
Perfect grace in every mien. 

And her voice is spirit-warming: — 

Oh! I never can forget 
When I listened to the charming. 

Heavenly voice of Harriet. 



il Song. 

The shadows of evening, so gentle and still, 
Were falUng in dimness abroad o'er the earth, 

And the birds in the valleys, the fields and the hills, 
Had hushed for a season their sonnets of mirth ; 



GREER'S POEMS. 



163 



And far in the regions of ether and blue. 

Where cloud, neither vapor, had ventured to stray, 

The stars in their glory came glittering through, 
As if to enliven the exit of day. 

Oh ! pure was the rapture I felt at the hour, 
And joyously sported my thoughts at the time, 

"While Yesper I viewed in her magical power. 

And the Muse to my fancy limned colors sublime. 

My bosom was glowing with joy at the scene 
That op'd to my vision — most charming to see : 

'Twas then in the beauty of nature serene 
That I gazed at the loveliness — beauty of thee ! 

I glanced but a moment at thee, and I felt 
A kindling of transport within my cold breast. 

As though a kind angel descended to melt 

And calm its high throbbings profoundly to rest. 

Thy look was reviving, enchanting thy smile ; 

Thy beauty more lovely than i can portray. 
With thee and thy comrades I parted awhile. 

To join with the jovial, the happy and gay. 

I met thee again, and again did we part, 

Where the young and the handsome in merriment 
met; 

And such the impression it made on my heart, 
That I never — no, never, the scene can forget. 



154 



GREER'S POEM 9. 



Peace, comfort and happiness surely were thine, 
For thou hadst returned to thy friends from afar ; 

But deepening sadness and sorrow were mine. 
Which seem all my happiness ever to mar. 

May pleasure be with thee, and with thee success ; 

Be Virtue thy guardian and Wisdom's thy way. 
When this world thou leavest, in seraphim's dress, 

Thy soul shall inhabit the realms of day ; 

And there, on the plains of felicity bright. 

By winds and temptations no more to be driven, 

I'll meet thee, to view with ecstatic delight 

The glories and charms of the scenery of heaven. 



Zo 3. S. C. 

Our youthful years have, like a dream, 
All passed away ; and now we here 
Are found on manhood's rolling stream, 
Whose troubled waters we must steer. 
But oft we turn and gaze 
To those delightful days. 
When all around was bright and clear, 
Illumed by joy's pellucid beam. 

We oft have leaped the green hill-side, 
To catch the painted butterfly ; 



GREER'S POEMS. 155 

And rambled in our childish pride 

By brooks that laughed as we passed bj ; 
Then, blossoms round our feet 
Seemed rising us to meet, 
And op'd their bosoms to the sky. 
And breathed their odors far and wide. 

Oh! how we loved each sunny day 

To angle in the waters bright, 
And listen to the music gay, 

Accordant with the gorgeous sight 
That lay before our eyes, 
Where gentle slopes did rise 
All lovely, strewn with flowers light, 
That beckoned us to roam away. 

And, too, we loved the oaky hill, 
To ramble in the cooling shade. 
When everything was calm and still, 
Save when our merry voices made 
The woods around us rins:. 
And birds start on the Avino- 
To find us on their rights invade, 
And drive them from their nests at will. 

And oft we used the meads to roam 

Among the waving grass so tall ; 
And then at eve we'd hasten home 

As though we heard a lover's call. 
The moments then our own 



156 GREER'S POEMS. 

Like mountain mists have flown : 
As Autumn leaves we soon must fall, 
And, as the evening, death will come. 

To grief and sorrow we are born. 

And as the flowers must we fade ; 
But ah ! in life's bright sunny morn 
We dream not of the evening shade. 
The young may die, alas ! 
And wither as the grass ; 
The aged all must soon be laid 
In death, by years of sorrow worn. 

Our parting I must e'er deplore. 
And drop full oft a bitter tear. 
Perhaps on earth we'll meet no more, 
Though to my heart I hold thee dear. 
Time hurries swiftly on. 
And life will soon be gone ; 
Then we must freight the mournful bier, 
And pass from time's unhallowed shore. 

Oh! let us never deiarn to rove 

From truth, and pray to be forgiven ; 
That while "we live, and breathe, and move/ 
Peace from our hearts may ne'er be driven : 
And when we leave this world 
Pure bliss shall be unfurled. 
And we shall meet high up in heaven 
To bask in God's eternal love ! 



GREER'S POEMS. 157 

Rn (0oeu(no in 31ttti). 

One evening when the golden sun 

Was sinking in the west, 
Proclaiming that his task was done 

And now he'd go to rest, 
I stood upon a lovely plain, 

That spread its verdant arms 
As if my roving mind to gain 

By holding out its charms. 

Beside me flowed a silvery stream 

That seemed to dance and play. 
While on it fell the last bright gleam 

Of iSol's departing ray. 
It murmured softly on my ear, 

Commingling with the sighs 
Of zephyrs whisp'ring mild and clear 

Beneath the cloudless skies. 

The flowers smiled o'er all the ground 

And op'd their petals wide, 
And richly sent their fragrance round 

Upon the breezy tide. 
The warblers all had hushed their notes 

Till morn should light the east; 
For not a sound came from their throats, 

On which my soul might feast. 



158 



GREER^S POEMS. 

Night's misty veil began to fall 

Upon the beauteous earth — 
To wrap it in a shady pall 

Till rosy morning's birth. 
Oh, how the soul, at such a time, 

Can sweetly meditate 
While viewing scenes so grand, sublime^ 

With purest joys elate! 

I, musing, cast my eyes abroad 

O'er charms most richly fair. 
And saw a maiden, who to God 

Was sending up a prayer: 
'Twas where her tender lover lay 

In death's cold, damp embrace, 
And she had come to kneel and pray 

Above his resting place. 

She loved him when the rose's hue 

Glowed on his healthful brow. 
And breathed to her, in words most true, 

A lover's faithful vow, 
Though death with stern, relentless blow 

Their earthly ties had riven, 
Yet she devoutly prayed to go 

And join his soul in heaven* 



GREER'S POEMS. 

Z()^ ^BfttspOemcr. 

Incarnate fiend! who dares to ope his mouth, 

All putrid, ulcered, ugly, and deformed 

Bj monstrous writhes to spew his vileness out, 

And from his dev'lish tongue rolls horrid oaths 

And bitter curses up to God, who sits 

Enthroned in majesty divine, enough 

To make all heaven weep and hell ashamed ! 

Transcendent fool ! in folly doubly mad. 

And gorged to hideous bloatedness with sin 

Of most abominable character. 

To think by dismal oaths of harming Him 

Who, at a single touch, could crush a world, 

Or at a glance could burn creation up ! 

The God who poises on his lofty arm 

The multifarious orbs by him create ; 

And whose paternal eyes survey at once 

All space infinite, whether orbed or void ; 

Who rolls the shining spheres around his throne, 

And with his presence lights the universe. 

Terrific worm ! huge fleshly budget of 
Infernal dregs ! the Devil's trump, through which 
He blows black blasphemies — hot, reeking from 
The pitchy caverns of sulphuric hell! 



159 



160 



GREER'S POEMS. 



The thunders of Almighty God, unchained, 

In wrath shall scathe his unrepentant soul 

That kindles fire-brands to set on flame 

The evil passions of his brother's heart ; 

That hatches oaths, whose filthy seeds take root 

And rankly grow in soil of other breasts. 

Damnation's sooty vaults reverberate 

With hollow howls of blasphemers accursed ; 

And every hideous wave that sweeps athwart 

The storm-gloomed "lake of fire," hath myriad stings 

To lash and pierce his soul in endless wo ; 

Where he shall sink still deeper, deeper down 

The nether whirlpool of infernal night; 

Where everlasting storms howl horrid war, 

And thunders clash with thunders with'ring wrath. 

Hair-hung o'er this the heedless blasphemer 

Swings ; 'twixt his soul and it, a breath alone 

Is all that intervenes: 0, heaven save 

Him ere he drops to plow its burning waves ! 

Virtue immaculate him spurns, him loathes 
As a foul visage from the sulphur pool. 
Whom God abhors and devils brother call ; 
Whom guardian angels walk not with by day, 
Nor court his pillow with their love by night, 
To ward a foe or teach him pleasant dreams. 
And love — the richest, sweetest flower that blooms 
In all the boundless spirit universe, 



GREER'S POEMS. 



161 



Or decorates the bosom of our God, 

Or 'dorns the casket of the human heart 

And gives the soul immortal, sweet perfume 

Of heaven's exhalation — glorious, pure. 

More joj-bestowing than the gold of worlds — 

Flees from his bosom as an exiled dove. 

Lone, mourning as she leaves her native home 

Where jargon harpies ghosted her away, 

No more to nestle in the stormy clime 

Of his dark, winter-ravaged bosom's waste ; 

And hate — the sable tyrant to all right, 

And eldest progeny of Lucifer — 

With knives and daggers " tipt with scathing fires," 

Prepared for ruin, massacre and blood, 

Enters his heart, and through the windows of 

His soul shoots deadly darts at passers-by. 

Monster detestable ! how labors he 

To barrenize religion's holy soil, 

And Christianity adulterate 

With poison from the molten bowl of hell ! 

His stony heart is black as blackest core 

Of all discolored blackness ! and so full 

Of sin that if he were accountable 

To the eternal Judge for all mankind, 

And meet his God unpardoned, unforgiven. 

His ghastly blasphemies would damn the world ! 



o2 



162 GREER'S POEMS. 



Zo 3. S. W. 

Alone in meditation 

With cheerful heart and mind, 
I'm taking recreation 

Amid a scene sublime. 

I've wandered through wild bowers 

Low in the silent glen, 
And wreathed the smiling flowers 

Far from the haunts of men. 

■ Tis thus I love at even 

The noisy world to flee. 
Beneath the dome of heaven, 

To meditate of thee. 

The stars are brightly peeping 
Down from the azure sky. 

And dews are gently weeping 
From evening's closing eye. 

My heart is full of gladness. 

And so to be it should ; 
For how can grief or sadness 

Exist in solitude V 

Oh ! how my soul admires 
This ever-loved retreat. 



GREER'S POEMS. 

Where oft the Muse inspires 
Me with her presence sweet. 

I'm sitting in the shadow 
Of evening's mystic veil: 

And round me, o'er the meadow, 
How soft the breezes steal ! 

The warblers now are closing 
Their music on the hill ; 

But here where I'm reposing. 
Melodious sings the rill. 

And lone the zephyrs- whisper 
As mildly by they pass, 

As though the wand of Vesper 
Were swaying o'er the grass. 

And now, beneath this willow, 
A happy thought of thee 

Sweeps Hke a golden billow 
Across my memory ! 

How often have I met thee 
In days gone fleeting by ; 

And ne'er will I forget thee 
Until the day I die. 

Forget thee ! never, never, 
Until I launch awav 



163 



164 



GREER'S POEMS. 

O'er Jordan's stream, forever 
To live in brighter day. 

The light of youth beams o'er us, 
And pleasure sure 's our lot ; 

Yet scenes that lie before us 
May be with trouble fraught. 

Oh ! is my spirit dreaming 
Of moments spent with thee? 

No ! it is love that's beaming 
Upon my soul's deep sea. 

Yes, love hath us united 

By an enduring chain: 
Let others' love be blighted, 

But ours no more be twain. 

No ! time cannot dissever 

The link that binds true friends; 
And our affections ever 

In one shall sweetly blend ! 

Though we afar be parted 

To meet again no more. 
Yet will we prove true hearted. 

Till hfe's short dream is o'er; 

Then, where the angel's gather 
Around the throne above. 



GREER'S POEMS. 

We'll meet to praise our Father 
In sweeter notes of love I 



165 



Co IIT. i). «g. ^greer. 

BY "J. B. W." 

Hark 1 from whence those sonnets sweety 

So rich and so sublime^ 
Which in "the papers" oft we meet, 

" Done neatly " into rhyme ? 

Ah ! yes, 'tis yonder I descry 

A form well known to me, 
With thought full beaming from his eye,, 

Beneath that " ancient tree." 

Well may the "zephyrs sport" around 

That lovely willow glen. 
Where never comes the troubled sound 

Sent from the "haunts of men." 

Thy notes are like the matin song 

Of some kind geni bright, 
Whose mission is amongst the throng. 

To guide our steps aright. 



166 GREER'S POEMS. 

Thy happy thoughts ! they fill my soul 
With love's enchanting spell ; 

They call to mind our pleasant stroll 
Along that lonely dell. 

Should clouds of sorrow cross the path 

That leads to honors, fame, 
Thou may est not heed the storms of wrath, 

Eor thou hast gained a name ! 

Thy harp has wak'd ten thousand souls 

To joy and ecstacy; 
And still its charming music rolls 

In proud sublimity. 

Thy heart is radiant with the fire 

Of unassuming love : 
Though veiled in clouds 'twill ne'er expire, 

Like yon bright sun above. 

Strike, strike thy harp! and teach mankind 

The way of happiness ; 
For Heaven surely thee designed 

Columbia's sons to bless. 

May zephyrs ever fan thy brow, 

And Flora perfume lend, 
To- cheer thy path as they do now, 

Until thou reach the end ! 



\ 



GREER'S POEMS. 



JP«'>IK|j>V, 



167 



So "0. S. W." 

The western sky is tinged with gold, 

That day's bright god reflects on high, 
Though he behind the hills hath rolled 

His flaming bosom from mine eye ; 
And evening's vast solemnity 

Across the world again is flung ; 
And I have sought this " ancient tree," 

Where often I have set and sung ; 
Where zephyrs lisped their minstrelsy 

Among the bows that o'er me hung; 
And even now they steal along, 
And sweetly chime their evening song. 

How pleasant is this lone retreat 

Where sounds discordant never roll ; 
Where nothing can my vision meet 

But what is charming to my soul 1 
My spirit seems to leave its clay 

To revel o'er the glorious scene 
That dims amid the twilight gray, 

And smiles beneath the sky serene ; 
Where glides the purling stream away, 

And meads are laid with carpets green ; 
Where stars, from ether heights above, 
Are peeping down with eyes of love ! 



168 GREER'S POEMS. 

Oh, solitude ! how vastly deep 

Thy silence reigns around, above ; 
For Nature smiles and sinks to sleep, 

Like Beauty in the arms of Love ! 
Thou'rt full of bliss, as woman's eye 

That in a toneless language speaks ; 
And winning as the smiles that lie 

In magic witch'ry on her cheeks. 
'Tis glorious now, for not a sigh 

From Nature's slumbering bosom breaks. 
A poet's eye with such a view 
Could feed on charms forever new. 

And now, oh harp! thy sonnet turn. 

And roll thy numbers loud, sublime ; 
For in my bosom strangely burn 

The fires that prompt my muse to rhyme 
Of one whose worth demands a theme 

Exalting, noble, lofty, bright; 
Whose store of knowledge pours a stream 

Of sanguine riches from its height; 
And cold I wield love's fairest beam, 

I'd paint his worth in deathless light. 
('Tis not to flatter, scarce to praise, 
My harp assumes such lofty lays.) 

Though time his years may throw between 

Our parting and our meeting hour, 
Yet, while my mem'ry lives serene 



GREER'S POEMS. 



169 



'Twill cling to thee with holy power. 
Our hearts are linked by chords of gold, 

That absence never can destroy ; 
And when my life away hath rolled 

My pulse shall leap for thee with joy, 
As full of bliss as when we strolled 

Along that "lonely dell," my hoy. 
(I use that term to fill my rhyme, 
And thereby lame the "big sublime.") 

Since last I saw thy friendly face, 

(The eve we took that "pleasant stroll,") 
Thou'st taken to thy fond embrace 

The ^'missing rib'''' to make thee whole. 
At matrimony's holy shrine 

I see thy lofty figure bend. 
Where Hymen with that soul of thine 

Another one did sweetly blend ; 
And oh! may blessings all divine 

Bestrew thy journey till "the end;" 
And o'er life's ocean mayest thou sail, 
Untossed, untroubled by a gale ! 

May peace like rivers round thee flow, 
And flow'ry scenes be thine to trace. 

With not a sad'ning pain of wo 
To fine a furrow on thy face. 

May not a cloud obscure the sun 
That pours upon thee now its ray ; 



170 



GREER'S POEMS. 



And may thy union, just begun, 
Be strengthened as life flows away ; 

And when your course on earth is run, 
Oh, may you both to worlds of day 

Ascend to reign with God above. 

And know the depths of perfect love! 



Scene in a i9rooe. 

Over the mountains, which, to eastward lay, 
Came twilight ; in a solemn shade the earth 
It folded mildly : for the sun had now 
Sunk gloriously adown the cloudless sky. 
Through which all day he blazed his fiery torch. 
And lit the numerous worlds that round him roll. 
His brilliant beams, from heaven's arch of blue, 
Had darkness clipped, and to the westward tossed 
Them far, and with dim shadows filled their room. 
A gentle zephyr stole across the fields. 
And whispered forth a gladsome evening song. 
Amid the leafy oaks that clustered round 
A hallowed spot. 0. glorious scene to view! 
Bright tapers now illume the woods around ; 
Each leaf is sporting in the flickering light ; 
All nature seems to wear a smile serene. 
And myriad stars seem clusteriag o'er the spot, 
To gaze far down in rapture deep, sublime ; 



GREER'S POEMS. 



171 



And e'en the azure heaven seems to bow 

Its gem-decked face, and softly throw its arms 

Of glory o'er the scene ; and angels through 

The open gates of Paradise descend, 

And o'er the grove on silvery wings rejoice. 

They strike their golden harps and swell glad notes 

Of praise to God ; notes, heard alone in heaven ; 

On lovely wings most pure, they nearer draw. 

And downward hover low with interest vast 

And gaze of hope, waiting the news to bear 

From earth to heaven, that rebel sinners vile 

Are flocking to the reeking cross of Christ. 

From Zion's walls the gospel peals aloud. 

And many icy bosoms penetrates. 

Which, dead in sin, with agony intense 

Begin to writhe, and lift a prayer to God ; 

Here those, who never supplication made, 

Perhaps, or never voiced their miseries 

To listening heaven, are bowed upon their knees. 

And pouring floods of penitential grief 

Up to the God who "loves the heart contrite." 

The woods reecho with the pleading voice — 
"Repent, and be ye reconciled to God;" 
"jPor, of himself shall every man to Gfod 
Render account^ and to Him all confess P^ 
The deep-toned thunders of the Gospel truth, 
From Zion's watchmen hurled, rolls o'er the deep 
Of many souls in winning, awful sounds, — 
Souls pu trifled in sin, and withering 



172 GREER'S POEMS. 

Beneath the frowns of an insulted God ; 

Distracted with remorse — as storm-tossed leaves 

They tremble — kneel to ask the healing-balm, 

That they may safely shun eternal death, 

And 'scape the fangs of the undying worm. 

Repentant cries go ringing through the grove, 

From souls long stubborn in the gall of sin. 

The pious pray that unbelief may flee 

Away, and doubting pass from every mind, — 

The pious — God's terrestrial lamps that gem 

The moral world, — their ardent prayers are heard: 

In many hearts the Spirit seems to move. 

And chase the briny fountains gushing forth. 

Loud calls for mercy fill the passing breeze ; 

On God strong faith lays hold, his promise claims. 

Which drive their sins away and heals their wounds. 

" Glory," now bursts from many labored lungs. 
And leap they up and shout aloud for joy ; 
While unbelievers stand amazed and look. 
And sneer to see their fellows nraise the Lord. 
Their callous, lean, distorted, barren souls 
Dwell growling in their trembling huts of clay, 
And fain would blast religioi:i if they could, — 
Religion! God's celestial, healing-balm. 
When poured upon the sin-polluted heart 
'Twill wash it clear of every guilty stain, 
And cleanse it for eternal life above : — 
Vain unbelievers — weakly, puny worms! 
How heedlessly they travel down to hell, 



GREER'S POEMS 



X73 



But fail not to discharge their bitter spleen 

At those who journey to the mount of God ! 

Their hearts are full of awful rottenness ; 

Dark, self-conceited, miserable, proud ; 

Thej boast their giant strides to Erebus, 

Till Death, from off the crumbling edge of time, 

Them hurls aghast, in fear and wild alarm. 

O'er ruin's goadj steeps, where spirits damned. 

Howl hollowly and gnash their teeth with pain — 

To mourn their dismal plunge in jaws of hell, 

And dwell among its fires forevermore ; 

Where curling flames of Jove's dread wrath shall o'er 

Them burn, and scorch and crisp their naked souls ; 

Where blazing fury wraps its millions up 

In smothering, probing sheets of keen despair ; 

Where rumbling howls of bleak damnation's storms, 

Harsh floating through the deep sulphuric pit, 

Loud sounding as they roll — " Eternal Death !" — 

And where the lightnings of Almighty flash, 

The skeptic lost must wail infinite years. 

Above, beneath, and all around the gulf 

Thick blackness spreads and endless groans ascend. 

Ye vaunting skeptics ! turn your course and run 

For life ; to Mercy's outstretched arms, 0, flee. 

For hopeless ruin lurks about your feet, 

And, at another stride, eternal night 

May yawn and gulp you in ; and fierce remorse 

Shall gnaw your souls 'mong yelling fiends of wo ! 

p2 



174 



GREER'S POEMS. 



Like those who here forsake their wicked ways 
Do ye return and heaven shall be yours. 
Here many fly from ruin's breaking verge, 
And plant their feet on Christ, the rock of life. 
The storms may howl and thunders madly roar ; 
Darkness may brood and lightnings through it hiss. 
Secure they stand beneath the smiles of heaven, 
And shout untouched though hell's artillery 
Thunders its terrors at their joyous souls. 

Oh, happy scene ! too rich by far to be 
Described by language weak as human is : 
Too grand for finite minds to comprehend : 
Too high a theme for mortal tongues to sing : 
Angels alone can grasp it in their minds, 
And swell its beauties on their golden lutes. 
The whiles I sat and pondered o'er the scene, 
Did muses fan my soul with flowery wings ; 
Breathed thoughts delightful to my busy brains ; 
Inspired my soul to sing this humble verse. 
And twined a wreath of love around my heart ! 



I wish to have a home in heaven, 

I wish to live with angels there ^ 
i want these slavish fetters riven, 



GREER'S POEMS. 

And joy instead of dark despair. 
I wish to do the will of God, 

And bend this stubborn will of mine ; 
To rise from neath this crushing load, 

And hail the hght of love divine. 
Eternal truth 1 inspire my soul ! 

Almighty Father, set me free 1 
Do thou my life henceforth control, 

And let it flow direct to thee ! 



176 



IDfjen 3 am %om. 

When I shall sleep 
Low in the silent clay, 
Will any for my absence weep. 
Or even sigh that I have passed away ? 
Or bow, and o'er my funeral heap, 
In humble pity pray. 
Sincere and deep ? 

A thought I crave 
Of those I love sincere. 
When passing by my lowly grave ; 
Or pause, and drop for me a feeling tear, 
That sin had chained me as his slave ; 
Or plant a rose bush there, 
O'er me to wave. 






176 



GREER'S POEMS. 



Or, when the tone 
Of floating zephyrs' breath 
Around my tomb is softly thrown, 
Then let a sister come, and o'er me wreathe 
The savory flowers ; — there alone. 
Sigh that the monster. Death, 
My lamp hath blown. 

My comrades dear 
May pass the church-yard by 
Where I am sleeping, when the clear 
Night queen is circling round the azure sky, 
And weep for me, as o'er my bier 
They wept ; but ah ! shall I 
Be worth a tear ? 

Let that fair maid, 
Who with me used to stray 
In sweet delight through evening's shade. 
And listen to whispering breeze's lay, 
Where unseen spirits round us played — 
Come there, and kneeling, pray 
Where I am laid : 

There on the sod, 
Beside my charnal mound. 
She'll dream of me, who, 'neath the clod. 
Again am mingling with my mother ground ; 
And there, with thoughts called from abroad. 



GREER'S POEMS, 



177 



She'll pour an incensed sound 
In prajer to God ! 

Oh ! I would lie 
Beneath some willow tree, 
And let its branches o'er me sigh, 
And gently sing their loylely melody : 
In peace I'd live, in peace would die, 
And after death would be 
Redeemed on high. 

If I'm forgiven 
Before I pass the vale 
Where human barques must all be driven 
Without escape, and through it smoothly sail, 
I'll shout — my slavish chains are riven ; 
And then my Saviour hail 
High up in heaven. 



£o Q. 35. B. 

I listened to the thrilling tone thy harp was rolling 

free. 
When thou wert musing all alone beneath that aged 

tree: 
Its strain, like some seraphic lyre's fell on my mental 

ear. 



178 



GREER'S POEMS. 



And lit mj soul with brighter fire, as of a holier 

sphere ; 
And wafted o'er my raptured thoughts, in purer, 

sweeter lays, 
The scenes of pleasure, ne'er forgot, of childhood's 

happier days, 
When I with my companions run in merriment, like 

thee, 
To shelter from the burning sun beneath a " lone oak 

tree." 

Its top was reared aloft in air, its branches widely 

spread, 
And formed in stately grandeur there an arch above 

my head. 
Where oft I sat the shade beneath, and heard the 

warblers sing. 
As joyously I twined a wreath of flowers in the 

Spring. 
With my companions at my side — whom I shall ne'er 

forget — 
From it we climbed the green hill side and pulled the 

violet: 
'Twas there I saw the brightest hours I e'er expect 

to see. 
Among my comrades, birds, and flowers, about that 

"lone oak tree." 

It braved the might of many a blast that laid its com- 
rades low : 



GREER'S POEMS. 



179 



The woodman by it gently passed, nor struck the 

felling blow; 
But like a giant there it stood, defying e'en decay, 
A stately relic of the wood that change had swept 

away: 
It saw " life's traverse " passing by like some wide 

" flowing stream," 
And generations live and die in "pleasure's empty 

dream." 
Oh ! there I love to ramble now in meditation free, 
And sweetly muse beneath the bough of that "lone 

oaken tree." 
But where are those who sported there with me at 

morn and even? 
Launched out upon a sea of care, by troubles tost 

and driven, 
To flee like shadows o'er the waves that roll from time 

to aye, 
And some are sleeping in their graves, — like thine 

have passed away: 
But I am left, a lonely reed, to float upon the stream 
That bears me on with awful speed from this terres- 
trial dream: 
But wheresoever I am cast, still dear the thought 

shall be. 
Of those bright hours that I have passed beneath that 

"lone oak tree." 

Thy verses, friend, for such thou art, although we 
ne'er have met. 



180 



GREEK'S POEMS. 



Have made an impress on my heart I never shall 

forget, 
For thej as well befit my case as though the muses 

told 
Thee all about my native place, and how it to unfold. 
I bid thee now a kind farewell; may happiness be 

thine ; 
And when the Muses with thee dwell, remember me 

and mine : 
And so I leave thee loathly now, and this loved spot 

to me, 
For I've been musing 'neath the bough of my dear 

" lone oak tree.^^ 



(Lo a IDiiiter UTren.^ 

Thy warbling soft, 

Gay little bird, 

My soul has oft 
To sweetest meditation stirred : 

For thou hast sung 

As charming notes 

As ever rung 

From minstrel throats. 
I love thy presence here to see, 
Although I oft must pity thee, 

* Written on New Year's morn, 1861, 



OREER'S POEMS. 

When chilling rain and snow 
Come pelting from the gloomy sky, 
And dismal breezes round thee sigh, 

Or storms in fury blow. 

Bleak Winter's blast 

May howl and shriek, 

And rumble past, 
But still thou dost my window seek, 

And sing as sweet 

As though beneath 

Thy little feet 

A rosy wreath 
Wert twined, and thou didst perch upon 
Its fragrant folds, to hail the dawn — 

The dawn of the new year ; 
For it last night was born on earth, 
And thou, to celebrate its birth. 
Dost chant thy praises here. 

Thy tender form 

Wilt perish there ; 

Come in and warm 
Thyself, from 'mong the frosty air, 

Beside the fire, 

Lone shivering thing! 

I'll tune my lyre. 

And with thee sing ; 
And let the angry tempest blow, 



181 



182 GREER'S POEMS. 

And bow the trees and whirl the snow ; — 
Here thou canst with me sit 

Secure, and at thy leisure sing ; 

Or through the room, on merry wing. 
Canst at thy pleasure flit. 

I do rejoice 

Each morn, to hear 

Thy gentle voice 
Ring out so wild and sweetly clear. 

Thou canst not heave 

A single sigh. 

Nor ever grieve ^ 

Or fear to die : 
Were I like thee I would be blest. 
For sin could ne'er have pierced my breast^ 

And caused my soul to mourn; 
If pure as thee, then could I sing, 
And fly to heaven on golden wing — 
Be thence by angels borne. 

Oh I lonely Wren, 
Come, with me stay; 
Won't come ? well then^ 
Go if thou wilt and roam away ; 
But thou again 
Must come and sing 
That lovely strain 
For me, sweet thing! 



GREER'S POEMS 



183 



Perhaps I'll never see thee more, 
For winds that now around thee roar, 

May chime thy dying knell ; — 
Thou'rt going ? chirp good bye to me, 
And in return I'll say to thee, 

Farewell, dear Wren, farewell ! 



e:ttrrier'5 fl&ftrcss==-l85l. 

TO THE PATRONS OF THE "MONONGAHELA REPUBIIOAN.»» 

A happy New Year to you all ! 
Sad, merry, old, young, great and small ; 
Whate'er your names, whoe'er you be, 
Come, list a moment now to me:^ 

You're all aware Old Fifty's dead, 
But happily just as he fled 
His everlasting flight from earth. 
He gave to Fifty One his birth . 

But though he's gone forevermore, 
His records we have still in store, 
Of love and murder, death and life. 
Of war and carnage, peace and strife. 

My lot has been from week to week. 
Through sunshine and through tempests bleak, 



4 

184 GREEK'S POEMS, 

To give you all the richest news 
Upon this sheet, to suit your views. 

'Tis filled with sparkKng gems of thought^ 
And ideas most sublimely wrought, 
Culled out to please the people's minds. 
Though of such various castes and kinds. 

The reason why these ideas shine, 
They have been dug from wisdom's mine, 
By brains that love to bless the age, 
And stamped upon this glowing page. 

Its field extends from pole to pole, 
Where mountains rise and oceans roll ; 
Where forests spread and torrents roar, 
And valleys teem with nature's store ; 

Where steamers plow the stormy main. 
And battle fields are strewed with slain; 
Where Arabs roam the burning sands, 
And where the Alpine towers stand ; 

Where Afric's heathen millions plod, 
And Chinese bow before their God ; 
Where northern winter ever reigns. 
And blossoms robe the southern plains; 

Where Oriental kingdom's rise^ 
And western summits kiss the skies ^ 



GREER'S POEMS. 

Where comets ether regions rove, 
And starry millions shine above ; — 

It tells of thrones and monarchy. 

The onward march of liberty 

That rides in all her glory forth. 

From east to west, from south to north, — 

Of her reception and her flight 
From heathen nations steeped in night 
Of moral darkness — tyranny — - 
Who glory in their slavery. 

Ho ! I'm the hoy that gives you news 5 
And should it all not suit your views, 
Don't get mad, and in a caper 
Say that I shall "stop your paper;" 

But step out doors — look round and view- 
The w^orld contains more folks than you. 
And if you'll take a boy's advice, 
You'll 'mong the crowd give all a slice. 

About six months have rolled away. 
Since news throughout America 
Like mournful bursts of thunder spread, 
A Taylor numbered with the dead! 

That he who braved grim battle's storm, 
And bent a nation 'neath his arm; 

Q2 



185 



186 



GREER'S POEMS. 



That rode through fields of reeking gore, 
Nor quailed to hear the cannon's roar; 

That conquered Mexique's prowling horde, 
And bound her leaders at his word ; 
That sat upon a laureled seat. 
While millions rallied at his feet;— 

Whose name shall live while ages flee, 
A champion of liberty; 
Who wore the Victor's conquering wreath. 
Had fallen in the jaws of Death I 

Columbia bowed her head to mourn 
When such a star was from her torn ; 
And well she might at such an hour, 
For threatened Union asked his power. 

The north and south, like naughty boys, 
Began to quarrel and make a noise. 
That they would cut the Union band 
That bound in one our happy land. 

They pawed and scraped in Senate halls^ 
And spit at each their spleenish brawls: 
Like angry serpents joined in fight, 
Their tongues shot words of poisonous spite. 

The Continent sent up the sound 
From centre to her farthest bound. 



GREER'S POEMH. 

That e'er another year revolved, 

The north and south should be dissolved : 

'Twas but a sharp, tumultuous blast 
That raged awhile, but now is past. 
And Union with a three-fold chain 
Binds north and south to each again. 

Since Fifty his career began, 
Our favorite " Republican," 
Her ample pages has unfurled 
Before a knowledge seeking world. 

Of Oregon and Mexico 

It tells us much, and then you know, 

It speaks of California's store 

Of that bewitching yellow ore ; 

How people leave their homes and wives, 
And run the risk to lose their lives. 
And thousands do ; w^hile some with wealth 
In gold return — exchanged for health. 

I've often thought it shameful — strange — 
That mankind are so fond of " cliange^'^ 
Or some, at least, who do refuse 
To pay a cent to get the news: 

But when they get a paltry dime, 
They think it is a heinous crime, 



187 



188 



GREEK'S POEMS. 



Unless thej put it in the chest, 
To mould in company with the rest. 

Well now, were I a little mouse, 
I'd hunt their coffers through the house, 
And 'fore the end of this 'ere winter. 
There shouldn't be a needy printer ; 

I'd pay them all for what they've done. 
And for another year to come. 
And then, with all my heart — 'tis true — 
I'd pay the little Carriers, too. 

Poor boys ! we often have to go 

Through rain and storm, through mud and snow, 

With brimless hat without a crown. 

And pack the papers all through town. 

Come now. Patrons, ask your neighbor 
Who may be -without a paper, 
To start the new year a new man. 
By taking the " Republican.''^ 

'Twill do them good — they may depend. 
They'll never grudge what they may spend 
For such a sheet — so, if you choose. 
Help them to get the choicest news. 

It is a Periodical 

For man or woman, boy or "gal," 



GREER'S POEMS. 



189 



Oh! then subscribe, — we nothing lack 
To give you all your money back. 

We know that all must now confess 
Their strong supporter is the Press ; 
It shows how great improvements ride, 
Rough-shod, o'er mountain, vale and tide, 

On lightning's charger, tamed by Morse, 
Or mounted on the iron horse. 
The Hempfield Rail Road for his track. 
Shall bear us soon upon his back 

While many go abroad for health, 
And others speculate for wealth ; 
While soldiers seek for landed bounty. 
We "go it" strong for the "-New County." 

I have experience in the case, 

And ask without a blushing face. 

From you, my Patrons, if you're willing, 

Who haven't " squared up," give a shilling. 

I'd laugh to see my hollow purse, 
(Which every day is getting worse,) 
Contain two bits to rub together 
While spreading news this muddy weather, 

I thank you all for favors done. 
And hope they've only just begun: 



j^ 



190 



GREER'S POEMS. 



I wish you all much peace and joy, 
Bvt don't forget the — 



Carrier Boy. 



Si Song 

Dash, dash away, 
Thou merry stream! 
And let thy crystal waters play. 

And twinkle in the golden beam, 
That falls among the trees, upon 
Thy ripples, from the setting sun. 
That now reclines his flaming breast 
In glory on the azure west. 

'Tis evening's hour, 
And all the ^\j 
Is cloudless ; and this sylvan bower. 

That hangs its beauties o'er me high, 
Is vocal with the lisping breeze 
That floats among the towering irees: 
The rill and zephyr round me here, 
Combine their notes to charm mine ear. 

Within my heart 
There is a string. 
Not wakened by the hand of Art, 
But Love can touch and bid it sing 



GREER'S POEMS. 



191 



A tribute to the distant maid, 

To whom my thoughts so oft have strayed, 

When night's dim shadows round me spread. 

And myriad gems gleamed o'er my head, 

A happy hour 
With thee I passed. 
One eve, when love's celestial power 

Did seem to bind our spirits fast 
In one, with that harmonious chain, 
That absence ne'er can cut in twain : 
Such moments are, indeed, but rare, 
So free from anguish and despair. 

Oh, none can tell. 
How, on that eve, 
I loathed to say to thee, ' Farewell,' 

And for my destination leave : 
Then filled my soul with sorrow's draught 
Although my lips in friendship laughed ; 
Thou smiledst, too, when we did part, 
But smiled, perhaps, to see me start I 

When shall it be 

That I will meet 
Thy cheerful face, and spend with thee 

Another hour so truly sweet ? 
It may not be until the day, 
When death shall summon us awav ; 



192 GREER'S POEMS 

And then, upon a brighter shore, 
We'll live and love forevermore ! 



So ''%. (t. 8." 

Has time across thee rolled some faithless billow ? 
Or have the fates thy path with sorrow spread ? 
Or hast thou hung thy harp upon the willow, 
And is thy muse forever from thee fled ? 

I used to hear thy music sweetly flowing, 
Like the aeolian harp at evening hour. 
When o'er its chords, so beautifully glowing, 
The breeze is wafted by some magic power. 

But now, since we by space are cast asunder, 
I turn to hear thee, but I turn in vain; 
And pause in deep anxiety, and wonder 
If ever I shall hear thy song again. 

Though three-score years are softly on thee pressing, 
Thy heart with youthful vigor yet o'erflows; 
And health thy agile form is still caressing. 
As some fair maiden fondling with a rose. 

Is there no charm to wake thee from thy slumbers, 
That I another strain from thee may hear? 



GREER'S POEMS. 

Or shall I list in vain for those pure numbers, 
That once were so delightful to my ear ? 

Does not Minerva, with bright wings extended, 
Upon thy spirit wise impressions stamp ? 
Or has she from old Homer's time descended, 
To be my sole director and my lamp ? 

If this cold song thouTiearest, let me know it 
By those seraphic lays which thou canst send 
In sweet response, thou patriarchal poet, 
Once my antagonist, but now my friend ! 



193 



flcrosttc, 

ON THE DEATH OF A LITTLE BOY NAMED VVTCLLIAM LYNCH. 

When the light of day had fled, and nature sunk to rest, 
In solemn shades around were spread the night's dark, 

misty vest. 
Lowly on the bed of death this little suiF'rer lay 
Listless of his parting breath that soon would pass 

away. 
In death's cold arms his body fell, and life with him 



was o'er 



And friends around him bade farewell, to meet his 

smiles no more. 
Morning had spread its wings across his brow, when lo! 



194 



GREER'S POEMS. 



Like some fair flower of the spring, he died at one sad 
blow. 

Yet dear as was he to his friends, they could not stay 
death's hands. 

Nor ward the power that swiftly sends the soul to 
other lands. 

Celestial pleasures now are his, where pains are felt 
no more ; 

Housed in with God in worlds of bliss, to live forever- 
more! 



(Carrier's ^abOrcss, 1852, 

TO THE PATRONS OF THE "MONONGAHELA REPUBLICAN." 

Ho, patrons and people ! here's Moses* once more. 
Right fresh from the fountain, his arms full of papers; 
Just hand him a diyne as he bows at your door, 
And see if the ''deviV^ don't cut you some capers. 

I'm the herald of knowledge, the mail-sack of truth, 
The liberal vender of news to you all, — 
To the rich and the poor, to the aged and youth. 
To the good and the wicked, the great and the small : 

I gather the world, as it were, in my hand, 
And on the ''RepubHcan" spread it like 'lasses; 

* Moses Scott, (the carrier,) being an apprentice to the printing 
business, is called the ''printer's devil." 



UREER'S POEMS. 



195 



I gather together from ocean and land 

Bright gems, and inform you of whatever passes : 

I tell you of massacres, spectres and pleas, 

Of piracies, shipwrecks, of prodigies, plays ; 

And how Mrs. Partington sits at her ease, 

And slanders her neighbors: just hear what she 

says — 

" Somewhere on the shore of the Monongahela, 
Is printed a paper polluted with evil ; 
How can it be else, for its carrier, r'ally. 
Is no more nor less than a full-blooded devil f^ 

I tell you of races, of maskings, of wars. 
Of mummeries, jubilees, tricks, and of fun ; 
Of meteors, comets, of sun, moon and stars, 
And of scamps who will shoulder a "spare-n5," and — 
run. 

I tell you of triumphs, of law-suits and treason, 
Of embassies, sea fights, of trophies and thunder; 
How men are bewitched and deprived of their reason 
By coquettes, and smilers and bloomers — no wonder ! 

I tell you of robbery, revelling, cheating ; 
Of useful discoveries — where, when and why ; 
How men are enabled by drinking and eating, 
And sleeping and working — to live till they die. 



196 



GREER'S POEMS. 



I tell you of sorrows and tragical matters ; 
Of villanies, honors, of murders and balls ; 
Of lawyers and doctors, of tailors and hatters. 
Of courtships and weddings, of babies and squalls. 

I tell you of wand'rers far back in the west, 

'Mong Indians and wildcats, bears, buzzards and 

snakes ; 
Where people will venture and risk to be blest 
With the mange and the horrors, the heaves and the 

shakes. 

I tell you of sailors, of boatmen and boats, 
Of battles with muskets, the sword and the lance ; 
Of men going crazy and cutting their throats 
Because of the ladies appearing in — pants ! 

I tell you of pestilence, famine and dearth. 
Of thieves by the sheriffs and constables caught ; 
Of rail cars and engines traversing the earth, 
And of trips to the clouds by the aeronaut. 

I tell you of steamers that plunge through the ocean 
'Mid darkness and billows, and seagulls and storms ; 
How the heart of the lover is put in commotion 
By getting a "sack" from the "rose of his charms." 

I tell you of mansions, of taverns and stores. 

Of presidents, peasants, of preachers and printers ; 



GREER'S POEMS. 



197 



Of editors taunted by loafers and bores ; 

Of bankrupts and brokers all broken to splinters. 

I tell jou of Holland, of Poland and Wales, 
Of Lapland and Greenland, of Iceland and ice; 
Of lizzards and sea serpents, oysters and whales, 
Of elephants, catamounts, monkeys and mice. 

I tell you of tyrants, and monarchs, and kings. 
Of mountains and deserts, of kingdoms and thrones ; 
How much like a nightingale Jenny Lind sings, 
And how to make dumphngs, and puddings and pones. 

I tell you of people who sacrifice health. 

By scratching the gravel, like poor, hungry chickens, 

In order to fatten their pockets with wealth. 

To tire them down as they trudge to the "dickens." 

I tell you of patents of all sorts and sizes — 
Of patent quack doctors, their "cure-alls or kills;" 
Of patent red noses, and patent black eyeses. 
Of patent green dandies, and patent blue pills. 

I tell you of famine and pestilence going 

Like giants through nations, resistless and free ; 

Of terrible cholera fatally blowing 

Its breath of contagion o'er land and o'er sea. 

I tell you of circuses, theatres, schools. 

Of chasing and racing, of gambling and blood; 
r2 



198 



GREER'S POEMS, 



Of people who turn to be wise men or fools, 
And go to the "diggins" to root in the mud. 

I tell you of Africa's poor wretched sons, 
Who're toiling in bondage, in darkness and pains: 
Hark! hear trampled millions loud utt'ring their groans, 
And asking for freedom from slavery's chains ! 

I could spin you a mile of such curious stuff. 
For there's lots of material stored in my head; 
But, may be, already you've got quite enough. 
So now for a glance at the hving and dead. 

! heard ye last midnight the mournful knell tolling. 
As fifty-one gasped and departed from earth? 
Then heard ye the carols delightfully rolling. 
Through nature's dominions, o'er fifty-two's birth V 

Yes, Fifty-One folded his pinions and died ; 

The winds sung his requiem, sadly and lone; 

The snow was his winding sheet, flung far and wide ; 

His grave is Eternity's realm unknown ! 

The world — every nation, and kindred and tongue — 
Did witness his exit, nor plead for his stay ; 
And few were his mourners, but multitudes sung 
The anthems of gladness to haste him away. 

What deeds I 0, what records he bore from the world. 
Upon his broad pinions indelibly pressed ! 



GREER'S POEMS. 



199 



What souls from his arms to perdition were hurled ! 
What souls on his bosom have gone to their rest! 

The flag of our Union still floats in the breeze, 
The banner of Freedom is waving on high; 
The eagle of Liberty soars at his ease 
O'er the hills of Columbia, and sports in her sky. 

The patriot, Kossuth, has fled from his home. 
Where tyrants and despots are cutting their pranks; 
Across the wide ocean he's ventured to roam. 
To meet a glad welcome in freedom's bright ranks. 

All hail to his coming! the mighty and true! 
Enwreath him with laurels, and pity his lot; 
And pour him your honor, if to him it is due. 
But render your tribute of shillings to Scott. 

Adorn the old champion's locks with bouquets. 
Encircle his brow with sweet chaplets of roses; 
But while you are giving your tokens of praise, 
0, think of the glory that's due unto Moses. 

I'm not the same Moses who split the Red sea — 
(The chap, you remember, that somebody found 
Done up in some buh'ushes) — listen to me — 
But ISIoses who carries the newspapers round. 

For plank roads and rail roads I've gone my full length, 
Especially the rail road from Hempfield to Wheeling, 



200 GREER'S POEMS. 

That is to be traveled by chargers of strength, 
That go ripping, and plunging, and snorting, and 
squealing. 

You can ride them without any bridle or saddle. 
Or rowels or switches, by night or by day; 
You can ride them a-standing, or sit on a-straddle, 
And dart like a thunder bolt swiftly away. 

May the first locomotive that runs on the track, 
(Of course, followed close by a long train of racers,) 
Bear Tom* and his comrades aloft on its back, 
'Mid the shouts and applaudits of ten thousand gazers. 

The darkness of Winter — the depths of his coldness, 
Have settled around us — with snow and with storms, 
Yet we can be happy amid his bleak boldness. 
While feasting upon the "Republican's" charms. 



At present I'll bid you good bye for a time. 
By wishing that pleasure may e'er be your lot; 
And if it should happen you have a spare dime, 
Please fork it right over to your most obedient and 
humble servant, 

Moses Scott. 

* Thomas M. T. M'Kennan, President of the Rail Road Com- 
pany. 



GREER'S POEMS. 201 

Uerscs, 

ON THE DEATH OF ABRAHAM D. S , AND MARY, HIS WIFE. 

Oh, spirit! breathe into my soul 

A radiant flame of love divine ; 
My feeble pen do thou control; 

Infuse thy truth in every line, 
That I, an humble worm, may shed 
A comfort to the orphan's breast; 
May pay a tribute to the dead, 
Whose souls are in eternal rest, — 
Where christians land 
When life's turmoil is o'er, 
And join the happy angel band. 
To shout, and praise their God forevermore. 

Disease, the fell destroyer, came. 

That has its countless millions slain, 
And seized upon their vital frame. 
With fever and distracting pain. 
They tried the learned physician's skill ; 

Alas ! he could not ease their pangs, 
For scorching fever wrap'd them still. 
And pain yet deeper sunk his fangs. 
So, all mankind 
Must bear the smiting rod 
Of sore affliction, but can find 
For every wound a healing balm in God. 



202 



GREER'S POEMS. 

The arm of mortal failed to save ; 

For the pale messenger had come 
To lay their bodies in the grave, 

And send their deathless spirits home. 
The mother first — so tender, kind — 

Was wafted to the heavenly bourn, 
And left her kindred here behind, 
For her awhile to weep and mourn. 
Ah yes! what tears 
Of mingled grief and love. 
We often shed around the biers 
Of those we've lost, yet hope to meet above. 

She joined the happy throng on high, 

To live amid elysian charms; 
And there she watched with anxious eye. 

To hail her husband to her arms. 
He went — exulting on the wing — 
Triumphant to the realms above, 
His partner there to meet and sing 
The carols of eternal love. 

And there along 
The shining golden plains, 
With tingling harps they'll sing the song 
Of ceaseless bliss, where glory never wanes. 

Oh, hapless orphans! ye have lost 

A father, and a mother too. 
Who were awhile by troubles tossed, 



GREER'S POEMS. 



203 



And then they bade them all adieu. 
Their bodies now in silence sleep 

Low in the dark and dismal tomb: 
Their souls a glorious harvest reap 
In beauty and immortal bloom. 
Beyond the stars, 
Far o'er the ether sea, 
Where tempting Satan never mars 
The christian's joys, they're housed eternally. 

They have examples to you given. 
Which, if you follow to the end, 
Will lead you up from earth to heaven, 

A blest eternity to spend. 
Then bear the cross, and watch and pray, 

Till you the "king of terrors" meet; 
And then to bliss you'll soar away. 
Your ransomed parents there to greet. 
Oh, who would not. 
In view of death , prepare 
To die, and, in their happy lot 
Above, with saints and angels claim a share. 

Oh, let us live, my dear young friends. 
So that we need not fear to die; 

And when our pilgrim journey ends 
On earth, we'll live beyond the sky; 

And there, in purer songs we'll raise 
Our voices with the blood-washed host, 

Through all eternity to praise 



204 



GREER'S POEMS. 



The Father, Son, and Holy Ghost! 
Oh! Saviour, pour 
Into our hearts thy love ; 
And when we leave time's gloomy shore, 
Receive us all, to reign with Thee above! 



Jlefigion. 

Religion! light within the soul — 

The gift of Christ, the Father's Son,— 

'Twill gloAV, undimed, while planets roll, 
Unmoved, when worlds to ruin run. 

When stars shall moulder in the skies, 
And orbs forsake their shining spheres; 

When suns shall cease to set and rise, 
'Twill still survive eternal years. 

When earth shall melt in general flame. 
And oceans boil in wreathing fire. 

Religion then will be the same — 
The Saviour's gift, the saint's attire. 

When all the elements shall blaze, 
And thunders shake creation's wall; 

When heaven's starry arch decays, 
Religion will survive its fall. 



<i KEEK'S POEMS. 

And while eternity shall roll 

Its everlasting cycles on, 
Religion, still within the soul 

Shall brighter glow than noon-day sun. 

While God remains the source of love, 
Religion shall illume his throne ; 

Will light the world of bliss above, 
And happify the soul alone. 

Oh, for its light, that I may tread 
The narrow path until I die ; 

Then I shall wear upon my head 
A crown of stars beyond the sky ! 

Religion ! shine within my heart. 
For thou dost heavenly light unfold, 

And dost a purer bliss impart 

Than worlds like this, if solid gold. 



205 



R SoiiQ 

We met as friends 



And tasted of that bliss, and freely too, 
Which never, never ends, 
With those whose hearts are always true. 



206 (JREEK'S FOEMS, 

I felt a thrill, 
A holy thrill of joy, I truly think, 
Of which my soul would fill 
Itself, and never cease to drink, 

When I with thee 
Held happy conversation — -long and sweet ;- 
'Twas then the thought to rae 
Was grand, that w^e did ever meet. 

All other charms 
Do vanish quite away, Avhen I can seek, 
And fold thee in my arms, 
And print a kiss upon thy cheek 1 

We have besiun 
A course of sacred happiness, which may, 

Before our i*ace is run. 
Bring deepest sorrow in our way ; — 

We'll hope that it 
Will now, henceforth, and ever prove, 
A glowing chord to knit 
Our hearts in constancy and love ! 

My thoughts are ihine. 
For thou art worthy of them all, I know ; 
And in this humble line, 
To thee love's tribute I bestow. 



GREER'S POEMS. 

My pencil aye 
Must fail to paint in colors fitly bright, 
Thy most angelic way, 
Which I admire with rapt delight. 

Thy amber hair 
Has beautj, so thy lively orbs of blue ; 
And in thy countenance fair 
I plainly read thy heart — is true! 

Thou wast, alas ! 
Once disappointed in thy love to one, 
And vowed that life should pass, 
To be deceived again by none ;— 

'Tis truly hard, 
But then revive and chase away the spell, 
All feelings such, discard. 
And bid despondency farewell. 

When friendship's tie 
Is cut asunder, how it rends the heart. 
But, ah 1 thy gentle eye 
Once wept, when we as friends did part. 

And ma}^, oh ! may 
We ever meet and part the same, and be 
3Iore friendly while we stay 
On earth, and friends eternally. 



207 



208 KEER'H POEMS. 

Remember Miss, 
Wherever through the world thy path may wend, 
The one who gives thee this. 
Will prove a true and constant friend. 



^0 a rSuinrCou], 

Gay chatterer ! thou hast come again 
Far through the balmy air. 

To flit across the flowery plain. 
And make thy warblings thrill, 
In echoes wild and shrill, 
O'er field and woody hill, — 

I love to hear thy merry strain. 

Go, roam upon thy airy wing, 

In breezes mild and soft ; 
Thy twitterings o'er my spirit fling 

A feeling fond for thee, 

Whom now I scarce can see, 

For thou dost swiftly flee 
Away, thou happy, joyful thing! 



GREER'S POPIMS . 209 

Despair. 

Ah ! how the monster steals into the heart, 
And like a canker-worm, feeds on the soul 1 

It bids contentment from the breast depart, 
And pleasure for its gloom away to roll ; 

And then to desolation's dismal mart, 

'T would drag us down, and spurn fair hope's control. 

It seeks, sometimes, the youthful lover's breast. 
And bears his spirit down with mountain weight, 

Till life becomes a burthen, and his rest 
Seems fled forever ; and the fearful grate 

Of notes discordant taunt him : he was blest 

In love's embrace; but ah! how changed his state. 

The love he fondly cherished as his own, 

Seems swallowed up with greed by fell despair ; 

And then he wishes he had never known 
The object that had won his ardent care. 

For bliss and happiness are from him gone, 

And where are life's enjoyments : pleasure, where ? 

Dark fiend! it comes, and* with a sable shroud 
Throws gloom and sorrow on the path of life ; 

Our sky o'ershadows with a frowning cloud, 
Till every hour is with contention rife ; 

While storms around us bellow out aloud, 

With jars and discords, sadness, pain, aac strife. 



S2 



210 qreeH's poems. 

The Christian's bosom often feels its power, 
In sinking manner, in his heart to dwell ; 

And 0, how fearful is its ruling hour! 

How soul-distractino; | ton o:;ue can never tell 

The horrors of its reign. Ah, fiend ! I cower 
At thj approach, for thou'rt a child of hell! 

Despair was born — not in the glow of day — 
But down among the ebon shades of night, 

And then let loose, to hold a horrid sway 

O'er every soul that's born to love and light ; 

It smothers hope, and peace it drives away. 
And on ailection puts a deathly blight. 

Ah ! how it hurries forth the bitter tear. 

When love the tender heart for it must leave ; 

The spirit, then, is weighed with crowding fear ; 
And every breath the bosom seems to heave 

A sigh, as though the hour was drawing near. 

When death should strike, and there was no reprieve, 

'Tis not alone of time, no, not at all, 

But haunts the soul in spirit realms below, 

And all around on hell's sulphurous wall. 

In fiendish shapes, "Despair" is seen to glow; 

It fiercely rides on every blazing pall. 

And shrieks to deep-damned souls — " Eternal wo 1" 

It binds them in the wrathful lake with chains 
That clank upon their ears eternally. 



GREER'S POEMS. 211 

Where unquenched flames, -wild roaring, never wane, 
Nor hope can whisper, "thou may'st yet be free:" 

Again the monster yells in mocking strains, 
"I AM Despair — Eternal Misery 1" 



Jlcmcmfiranccs. 

I love the stream. 



'? 



Along whose grassy side, 
I first began of life to dream. 
And float along its smoothly rolling tide ; 
And well do I remember how I hied 
To crop the blossoms at the gleam 
Of morn — 'twas then my pride 
To meet its beam. 

My memory 
Now wings its happy flight 
To that broad, verdant beechen tree 
Where oft I gamboled in unmarred delight. 
And whiled the flying hours from morn till night; 
And now my comrades there I see, 
As with my real sight 
It used to be. 

The songs I hear 
Again among the sprays, 



212 



GREER'S POEMS. 



As oft they used my soul to cheer, 

When sporting there in childhood's dreamy days, 

And in the very height of pleasure's blaze ; 

But now I pause, with heart sincere, 
And o'er my truant ways, 

Do drop a tear. 

Childhood is o'er; 
And far from that loved spot — 
Far from my native stream's green shore, 
With charming scenes and blooming flowers fraught, 
I've roamed away, and other regions sought: 
Perhaps I'll ramble there no more, 
As 'twas my blessed lot 
In days of yore. 

Few yeai's have been. 
And 0, how swift they've fled, 
Since, with my comrades on the green. 
Beneath the cooling shade, where willows spread. 
And poplars waved their branches o'er my head, — 
I lived and loved with love serene; — 
There heavenly beauties shed 
Upon that scene. 

So life will flee — 
A dream of fading things, 
A glance of nature's scenery, 
A transient taste of joy and sorrow's springs, 
An ''inch of time" — a passing sigh, that brings 



GREER'S POEMS 



213 



No echo on life's billowy sea: — 
How soon the spirit wings 
T 'eternity! 



R ;Bcttut(fuf Scene. 

Lone midnight hangs in silence o'er the hills, 
And fills the vales with sohtude profound. 
Pale Luna in her silvery mantle dressed, 
Sinks solemnly adown the western skies, 
Anon about with vfhite edged vapors wreathed. 
Which float in fleecy clusters on the breath 
Of night, athwart the starry canopy; 
And as I glance from this tall summit down 
Along the vale that stretches either way. 
Do I behold fair Monongalia's tide 
Reposing 'neath cold Cynthia's gentle glance. 

Her mellow beams fall softly o'er the hills 
Upon the gliding waters of the stream ; 
Small ripples chase each other o'er its breast, 
Like golden ringlets, dancing, as the breeze 
Goes stealing forth in whispers mild, serene. 

Nor does the wafting zephyr only sing 
Its melody upon the rolling tide ; 



214 GREEK'S POEMS. 

But breathes a melancholy music through 
The naked boughs that sway above my head ; 
And plays along the ground about my feet, 
Rustling the withered leaves, and tossing them 
Among the sapless weeds, and scattered brush, 
And fallen trunks, that overstrew the hill. 

Is not such solitude desirable ? 
The world's asleep! the moon has hid her face! 
The glorious heavens spangled o'er with stars. 
Around me bend, and bid me happy be! 
No wrangles of a thronging multitude 
Disturb my ear; no — this is solitude. 
Its soothing presence moves me e'en to tears. 
Who would not love it ? who would dare despise ? 
Oh! who would not its blessed calmness seek. 
Where they the cares of life might cast aside, 
Forget the sorrows that would mar the soul, 
And spend an hour in meditation sweet, 
With nature and their God communion hold ? 
My heart leaps lively, and I might forget 
That I again must mingle with the world ; 
That grief again will gather on my soul, 
And care and trouble cluster in my path. 

This scene sublime I love to contemplate: 
For here can I behold the sky serene, 
Holding within its ether archery, 
A countless multitude of glittering worlds. 



UKEEll'S POEMS. 



215 



It but a moment seems since I beheld 
The Queen of night soft sailing round the arch, 
With silvery vapors flounced, whose edges seemed 
To melt, commingle, flow together — Oh! 
What beauty even in a floating cloud! 

And now does memory wing its flight again 

To youth's bright, happy morn, and read each line 

Of joy, as printed on the scroll of time: 

And do I seem to live again the sweet 

Fond dreams of childhood; and once more across 

The flowing hills in truant pleasures roam; 

And breathe the scented air that played among 

My tossing locks and fanned my fevered brow. 

Methinks I now sweet converse hold with those 

Who then w'ere my companions — those with whom 

It seemed my heaven to be — who joyously 

Beside me sported, gathering violets 

And roses on the meads and grassy slopes. 

And from the banks of purling rivulets, 

That wound along the wide, sequestered vales. 

Ah! this is but a dream, a fleeting thought 

Of the eternal past! But here am I 

In midnight's calm, high seated in a grove 

Of leafless oaks, on a tall cliff, above 

Fair Monongalia's tide — beloved stream! — 

O'er which I lean with swelling heart and say: 



216 



GREER'S POEMS. 



Forever roll in peace thy mighty way; 
And with me sing in rapturous lays of love, 
The praise of God, who lives in Heaven above! 



WRITTEN IN A PUBLIC PLACE. 

Ye trav'lers o'er this dreary earth, 
Unto my verses lend an eye ; 

And in your scenes of giddy mirth, 
Remember you are born to die. 

All men are but as blades of grass: 
They live and flourish for a spell, 

But ah ! how soon away they pass, 
To live in heaven or in hell ! 

To die, — oh! what a thought it is! 

It strikes a terror to the heart; 
Yet pause and ponder — think of this, 

That Death has got for each a dart. 

We all should strictly try to do 
Our duty while on earth we stay, 

That when we bid life's toils adieu, 
We'll go to worlds of fairer day. 



GREER'S POEMS. 



Sfaoeri), 

The cursed principles of Slavery 

In caverns of Perdition us'd to dwell ; 

Then up to earth thej rose, 

Religion's fiendish foes ! 
And labor now to murder Liberty^ 
And turn our land of freedom to a hell 



217 



Si Song, 

TO A TREACHEROUS YOaNG LADY. 

(The following verses were written after listening to the narrative 
of a disappointed lover.) 

I loved thee once with heart sincere, 
For 0, 1 thought thou lovedst me, 

And never dreamed that rolling years 
Could make the smallest change in thee 

But ah ! thy face is turned away ; 

The look of scorn is on thy brow ; 
The reason why — 0, tell me, pray. 

That thou hast broke thy solemn vow? 

Thou canst not cast thine eyes above, 
And see the twinkling stars on high. 



218 



G KEEK'S POEMS. 



Without remembering the love 

Thou pledg'dst to me in days gone by. 

My love was centred all in thee, 

Whom I believed as angel fair, 
But thou wert bent on falsity, 

And bound to oatch me in thy snare. 

A sad'ning feeling seems to fill 

This heart, this aching heart of mine. 

Which once was lulled profoundly still 
With sacred love for thee and thine. 

If I had never seen thy face 

I might be happy now, but oh I 
The earth hath not for me a place, 

But where I feel the sting of wo. 

I'm like the lonely, mateless dove. 
By the rude hunter's arrow torn. 

And wounded, left the world to rove, — 
In sorrow all my days to mourn. 

I once was blithesome as the fawn • 
That gambols in the wild-wood bowers. 

Or as the lamb that skips the lawn. 

And breathes the sweet perfume of flowers ; 

Was happy as the lark that springs. 
Exulting, from the morning dew, 



GREEK'S POEMS, 



219 



And soars away and sweetly sings 
While bathing in yon sea of blue. 

But ah ! I met thy winning face, 
That wore a false, deceitful smile; 

I clasped thee to my fond embrace. 
And deeply loved thee for a while : 

And, to enfold thy handsome form, 

I asked no other joy beside. 
For thou wert all my earthly charm. 

And in thy vows I did confide : 

But, to deceive, thy pledge was made — 
To blight my spirit in its bloom: — 

Can I forget thee, cruel maid. 

That thou hast steeped my life in gloom? 

I thought of thee through all the day ; 

Rejoiced with thee while others wept ; 
And when upon my couch I lay, 

I dreamed of thee and sweetly slept. 

Thou seem'dst to me a form divine. 
An angel from the realms above ; 

And thought that thou wert truly mine. 
For thee I loved with holy love. 

Alas ! the fatal deed was done. 

The dream of bliss was o'er with me ; 



220 



GREER'S POEMS, 



A life of sorrow then begun, 
For I was sunk in misery. 

Thy vain, delusive face was turned 
Away, oh! fickle maiden, why? 

Why was I from thy presence spurned, 
In sorrow thus to droop — and die ? 

Oh ! never strive again to win 

That passion which our life exalts; 

No — never do the fearful sin, 
By being to another false. 

But lay thy snares for other hearts. 
If thou luilt still prove false again ; 

Go hurl thy vile, deceitful darts — 
Beware— for thine may be the pain! 

Go wreathe around another brow 
The chaplet I had twined for thee ; 

Go breathe to him the solemn vow 

That thou once falsely breathed to me ! 

If this thou ever deign'st to do. 
Reflect, the day will come at last. 

When thou such cruel deeds wilt rue. 
And death thy soul forever blast. 

Farewell now, — perhaps, for ever ; 
Thou didst all my peace destroy; 



GREER'S POEMS. 

For thej have got a father dear, 

To point their souls to heaven above. 

Perhaps at morn or still j eve. 
Her spirit may be hov'ring nigh, 

And whispers — " Children do not grieve, 
And husband dry your tearful eye. 

" Mourn not for me, although my clay 
Is shrouded in the dismal tomb. 

But be prepared to come away. 

With me in brighter worlds to bloom ! 

" The fruit of endless life I eat, 

Which God has to the ransomed given, 

And drink the crystal waters SAveet, 
That flows along the vales of heaven. 

" 0, come, dear children, to the home 
Prepared for you in heaven above, 

And there with me rejoicing roam 
O'er scenes of beauty, light and love. 

"And hasten, husband, to my arms. 
That we may meet to part no more. 

But dwell amid unfading charms. 

And sing — ' Our troubles all are o'er.' 

" A golden harp I have to play, 
A crown of glitt'ring stars I wear ; 



225 



226 



GREER'S POEMS. 



Am clothed in light of endless day, 
And palms of victory I bear. 

» 

" I'll shout to meet you in the skies, 
Yes, glory! glory! to my God! 

High up where pleasure never dies. 
We'll swell redemption's song abroad." 

My stricken friend, thy locks are hoar, 
And soon shall moulder in the grave ; 

A few more clouds shall pass thee o'er, 
A few more tempests round thee rave: 

A few more w^ars with Satan fight ; 

A few more troubles bear in life, 
And then to upper realms of light 

Thou'lt soar and join thy loving wife. 



Obscukk Retreat, June, 1850. 

Mr. Editor: When perusing the columns of the '•Journal" a 
few days since, my eye fell upon a poetical effusion entitled 
" Poetasters," which I read with no inconsiderable degree of inter- 
est ; from the fact of its haA'ing direct reference to a production 
previously issued from another Press in your city. The author of 
"Poetasters," ("Nehemiali,") must indeed be one of the mightiest 
geniusses of his age; and, to give the world a display of his "all- 
killin'" powers, he brandished his wondrous pen aloft, and struck 
his biggest lick at the young Poets, whose brilliant talents stamp 
unfading light upon the pages that emanate from the Presses of 
your far famed city. And, feeling it a duty incumbent on me to 
say something in behalf of the Poets of Allegheny College, in or- 
der to encourage them on their way up the "Mountain," I pen the 
following lines for their benefit, and 



GKEEK'S POEMS, 



227 



Sox 3Kr. '^jrcfjcmiaO" Oimseff. 

Hark! what is that falls on my ear, 
That sounds like beaten rusty wire? 

I cannot tell, as sure's I'm here, 
Unless 'tis Nehemiah's "lyre." 



I list again — the awful blows 

Are like the clash of many swords, — 
Stop! hush! be still! — again it goes 

Exactly like a-sawin' boards. 

Great Caesar what will be the last 
Of such a strain but just begun? 

I spose he'll give us all a blast 

Well aimed from his alarming gun. 

Could mortal bein's have believed 

That man could sound so loud a note? 

No ! Etna's crater never heaved 

Such throes from out its burning throat '. 

It rolls and rumbles in the air, 

Like woful peals of two-fold thunder; 

But, thank the gods, it cannot tear 
Aught else, except itself asunder! 

Aloft! it rumbles louder still: 

It almost sets my head a-reeUn', — 



228 



GREEK'S POEMS. 



Beneath! again, more wildly shrill 
Just like a djin' pig a-squealin'. 

I fear another such a swell, 

Without a band around him tight, 

Will "bust his biler" — then farewell 
To such a shell of talents bright. 

* 
Now, " Nehemiah," take advice, 

And don't be seen at large a-runnin*, 

But act the part of little mice — 

Stay close to home — be sly and cunnin'. 

Go on my young poetic friends, 
And keep your banner in the air ; 

The Muses court — and, may depend, 
A wreath of laurels you shall wear: 

Go on, I say, and never mind 
The arrows of the envious Jack, 

Who stealthily has been inchned 
To spit at you his noxious slack. 

Push on. Push on! and upward mount, 
With stern and persevering will. 

And you shall drink the crystal fount 
That gushes forth from Science' hill 

Push on, and struggle for its top, 
Though very hard it seemeth now, 



OREER'S POEMS. 

And you shall deathless flowers crop, 
That cluster on its gloating brow. 

Let "Nehemiah" hurl his darts, 
And rant his loudest thunder-claps ; 

But show him you have dauntless hearts, 
And quite as big as his, perhaps ; 

And let him fizz, and foam, and spit, 

For he has run into a snare 
Where he may get his fingers bit, 

Much worse than he has been aware. 



229 



cfttreinerf £ines to ''JleOemiaO." 

Before we part, give ear to me, 

You made the first intrusion, 
And in your last there seems to be 

A very strange conclusion. 
You came into the battle-field. 

As though to conquer all ; 
But then you were the first to yield, 

And loud for quarters call ; 
So never more put on your shield 

To face a cannon-ball. 

Thy doleful case I do deplore — 
That thou art hurt so bad 



230 GREER'S POEMS. 

As not to fight a little more, 

But, pray sir, " don't get mad:" 
If some are "green" it may be seen 

That others are quite yellow ; 
As pumpkins grow they make a show, 

But still are very mellow ; — 
So take this hint and snuff and squint. 

You pumpkin-headed fellow ! 

I know your name, from whence you came, 

And many things about you ; 
And well I know this world below 

The sun, could do without you ; 
You'd better mount a hobby-calf. 

And start across creation 
Where people are not civil half — 

Beyond this moral nation ; 
Or jump aboard the telegraph, 

And ride to desolation ! 

Such creatures ought to wear a gad, 

And go to drivin' oxen, 
Or else be set to " shootin' shad," 

And daily take a boxin'. 
Who dares another's name invert. 

Should pass through teasin'-fliers, 
, Or else be chased, without a coat, 

Through thistles, thorns and briers; 
To dance, would be his just desert. 

On red-hot pointed wires! 




GREER'S POEMS. 



231 



I bid jou now a last farewell, 

In hope JOU may survive, 
The nations all around to tell 

That you are still alive. 
Long shall the winds that by you howl, 

Your worth abroad proclaim. 
And beasts that through the forests prowl, 

Shall utter forth thy name ; 
And e'en the bat and hooting owl, 

Shall chant thy mushroom fame. 



£0 3. 3. a. 31 , IJoet. 

Seize thy harp and roll its numbers 

Far along the stream of time ; 
Wake the nations from their slumbers. 

With its echoings sublime. 

Thou hast thoughts too grand to crumble — 

Too sublime to die with thee ; 
Be not then so fearful, humble, 

Swell aloud thy minstrelsy. 

Court the Muses at thy leisure ; y 

Let no care thy course retard; 
Feast on nature's boundless treasure. 

Thine shall be a rich reward. 



A 



232 ©REER'S POEMS. 



aOe Betttf) of tt lJoutf)J 

He's gone ! as bright a youth 

As ever drew a breath ; 
Alas ! it is the truth, 

He met the roonster, Death, 

He's gone where angels dwell, 
In brighter realms above, 

Forevermore to swell 

The heavenly song of love. 

To earth he bade adieu — 
To sorrow, pain and strife — 

And up to glory flew — 
To everlasting life. 

Amid the ransomed throng, 
He roams above the sky, 

And sings his happy song 
Where pleasures never die. 

A blest eternity, 

He'll spend without alloy. 
And shout — '' I now am free 

In worlds of boundless joy." 

* The Author's first production. 



\ 



GREER'S POEMS. 

Through heaven's vast domam, 
On angel's wings he'll soar ; 

And o'er its golden plains 
Traverse forevermore. 

His dying words were these: 
" My dearest friends, good bye^ 

And try your God to please, 
And meet me up on high. 

*' This world is nought but wo, 
Where troubles reign supreme ; 

But when to heaven I go, 
'Glory' shall, be my theme. 

" Weep not, weep not for me, 
Though we must separate ; 

For in eternity 

To greet you I will wait. 

" My Saviour calls me home 

To his eternal rest; 
And there, oh, with me come, 

And lean upon his breast ! 

"To death I now resign, 
And kiss his smiting rod ; — 

Thy will be done, not mine, 
My Father and my God. 

u2 



233 



234 UREER'S POEMS. 

" Mj convoy now is here, 

See, how thej throng my room 

Oh, parents, dry your tears — 
Farewell! I'm gomg home !" 

The "King of Terrors," Death, 
His snowy i^inions spread, 

And with his icy breath. 

Numbered him with the dead.. 

The God of heaven was pleased 
To call him thus away, 

Which soon his soul released. 
From its dull house of clay. 

Why do we mourn our loss^ 
When surely 'tis his gainf 

He's now where none engross, — > 
Beyond the reach of pain. 

We all must shortly die, 

And be to judgment brought ; 

And oh ! may we on high. 
Participate his lot. 

Beneath the cold, damp ground, 
These tenements shall lie. 

Till Gabriel's trump shall sound, 
And echo through the sky: 



GREER'S POEMS. 



235 



Then let us all prepare, 
This youth to meet above, 

His happiness to share, 

Where all is peace and love ! 



Bespoiibenci). 

There is a heavy feeling sometimes falls 

Upon our spirits ; how, we cannot tell ; 
Then, like a pris'ner in his dungeon walls, 

We live and almost deem existence hell. 

Oh! it is dreadful in that state to dwell, 
When hope's bright sun is set, and stars look not 

With smiles upon our darkened souls, to quell 
The sullen gloom that seems but to have brought 
A night of sorrow, and a drag of dying thought. 

Such seasons may be blessings, for 'tis then 
We learn our nothingness, and feel the deep 

Necessity of aid from Heaven, not nmi, 
For they are but ephemeras that creep 
Through labyrinths of mystery, asleep 

To every interest except their own ; 

So when Despondency's dark shades o'ersweep 

Our hearts, and thickly on our paths are strewn 
The thorns of an2;uish, we must bear their ills alone. 



236 



GREER'S POEMS. 



A multitude of wrongs that we have done, 
Like clouds come rolling over memory, 

With fearful threatenings ; the heart is lone 
And dismal as a wreck upon the sea, 
When midnight veils it, black as ebony ; 

And winds sweep madly o'er the frenzied wav^ 
The victim, then, of dread despondency 

Should wake to feel there is no arm to save 
Him, but Jehovah's, from eternal ruin's grave! 



Eo "Ueiitcitt." 

The golden tinglings of thy lyre. 

Have waked my soul from dreamy sleep. 

To wonder, meditate ; admire 

Their music roUing soft and deep. 

Until my bosom, like a pyre. 

Was flamed with an expanding fire. 
That made my spirit upward leap. 

The emanations of thy mind. 

Are dazzling gems of lofty thought. 

With love and imagery combined, 
And ornamental fancy fraught ; 

They leave the grosser world behind, 

And seek for purer bliss to find. 

That's ever found when rightly sought. 



GREER'S POEMS. 

If thou hast set thy mark on high, 
Then, soar and reach while you may, 

For swiftly pass the moments by, 
And life is ended in a day, — 

A breath, a tear, a smile, a sigh — 

Then, like a flower we droop and die, 
And back to mother earth decay. 

Within thy " heart's most secret core," 
Oh I treasure knowledge, grave it there, 

'Tis better than the shining ore. 
That buys us oft but robes of care : 

There's nothing like an ample store 

Of well refined, unerring lore, 

Of which, thou hast a goodly share. 

The "flowers of Friendship" soon decay, 
Although we nourish them with tears 

And smiles — their glories pass away, 
And then the "hidden thorns" appear. 

That on our paths so thickly lay, 

That we are stung where'er we stray 
Upon despair's unhallowed bier. 

A wounded heart must sigh and sing 
Its sorrows like the morning dove ; 

But ah ! can that a comfort bring. 
Or flant anew the " bud of love ?" 

No, no — this world hath not a spring 



237 



238 



GREER'S POEMS. 



That can restore its withering, 

Nor e'en the "wilj thorn" remove. 

I now enwrap in sorrow's fold, 
This sympathizing heart of mine, 

And turn with pitj to behold 
A cloak of thorns encircle thine, 

From whence thy melting sonnet rolled, 

That thus my ready muse controlled. 
To sing to thee an humble line. 

We find our "earthborn fancies" vain, 
To wind from life's entangled warp, 

A thread of joy: — no other strain 
But sadness tingles from our harp. 

When LOVE is wounded by the reign 

Of cruel disappointment's pain — 

The "thorn" that murders — ah, how sharp! 

The "flower" that lured thee to the grave 
Of youthful pleasure, was a snare, 

Thy hapless overthrow to prove. 
And shroud thy bosom in despair ; 

But if thou wouldst possess true love, 

Venicia, "look for flowers above," 
And thou shalt find abundance there. 



GREER'S POEMS. 

efje 0[b Cfjurcfj 3jttrb. 

Remorseless Time! Wave after wave, 

That never cease to sweep 
Their onward course in silence, have 
O'er whelmed and hurried in the grave 

The numbers that around me sleep 
Beneath the soil, 

From sorrow, strife and toil, 
Destined to dark oblivion's deep. 

How many tears have here been shed, 

Upon this sacred sod ! 
How many sighs breathed for the dead, 
That earth's lone caverns here imbed. 

Under the cold and yellow clod ! 
Their souls are where ? 

Rolling in black despair. 
Or housed high up in heaven with God ! 

Ah ! here the aged have been laid, 

Who, down life's beaten way, 
Pursued their journey, till the shade 
Of Death's gloom-pinions o'er them spread. 

To slumber till the judgment day. 
Insatiate tomb ! 

Thy dismal depths have room 
That opes to gulph all living clay. 



239 



240 GREER'S POEMS. 

And here the young are sleeping, too, 

In calmness most profound : 
Oh ! what a brief and fleeting view 
They had of life, then bade adieu 

To all its varied scenes around; 
And fled from sin, 

To live with cherubim, 
Where love and peace and joy abound. 

Oh, wayward mortals! pass not by 

This holy, solemn spot, 
Without reflecting you must die. 
And lowly as these victims lie. 

Who've shared the living's certain lot ; 
Oh ! think before 

Your dream of life is o'er, 
And you are up to judgment brought. 

Autumn has stole her annual round. 

Chiming again her song 
Of death, while scattering o'er the. ground 
The forest leaves ; and in the sound 

Of wailing winds the hills among, 
She j^reacJies death 

To all that breathe the breath 
Of life — to nature's countless throng. 

Reflect aright, ah! deathless soul! 
Upon thy destiny ; 



GREER'S POEMS. 



241 



The grave is not thy future goal, 
But where damnations' billows roll, 

If unprepared, thou'rt doomed to flee ;- 
If saved by grace, 

In Jesus' safe embrace, 
Forevermore thy rest shall be. 



KOei) pass ttujtti). 

Oh, childhood's days! they pass away. 
Like music's voice upon the ear. 

Or like a flower that blooms an hour. 
Then dies, no more to re-appear. 

The morning breeze sings through the trees. 
And bears from out the cooling shade. 

The songs of love, that cause to rove 
The truant there with joyous tread. 

His heart is light from morn till night 
In skipping o'er the pleasant green: 

To him the earth is full of mirth, — 
Around him all one beauteous scene. 

He wanders on, himself, alone. 
Along the plain, or slope, or hill; 

Or seeks the vales where scented gales 
Float softly by the murm'ring rill. 



242 GREBE'S POEMS. 

To him the sun has just begun 

To climb the broad blue arch above, 

And cast around o'er sky and ground, 
The fairest beams of light and love. 

Then troubles come with mighty hum. 
And deepest casts of sordid care 

Crowd on his mind, that tend to bind 
Him low in chains of fell despair ! 

The monster, Sin, with furious din. 
Upon him comes with sinking sweep ; 

Its thunders roll across his soul, 

And rumble o'er his heart's great deep! 

Where'er he flies, the piercing eyes 
Of God, his actions all can see ; 

But on he sails through calm and gales. 
Nor can he stopped one moment be. 

He seeks for rest to make him blest. 
But ah ! there is no resting here — 

Then turns about and launches out 
Upon a broad and boundless sphere. 

The way of life is fraught with strife, 
And disappointments, trials and pain ; 

But if we strive aright we'll live 

With Christ, where joys forever reign. 



GREER'S POEMS. 

A Soufl. 

'Tis sweet to hear the merry birds 

Sing in each leafy tree ; 
But sweeter far, those gentle words, 

Which thou dost breathe to me. 

'Tis sweet to view the stars above. 

In modest glory shine ; 
But sweeter far to read the love, 

Meant in that look of thine. 

'Tis sweet to see the blossoms bright. 

In forest, grove, or field; 
But sweeter far the melting light. 

In thy soft smile revealed. 

'Tis sweet to see the sun recline 

Upon his evening bed ; 
But sweeter, on that breast of thine, 

To lean my weary head. 

'Tis sweet to see the pale moon glide 

Along the azure sky ; 
But sweeter still, at eventide, 

To meet thy soft blue eye. 

I've seen thy heart and read it through ; 
Deception lurks not there ; 



243 



244 



GREER'S POEMS. 



But than the gold of drossless hue, 
Its virtues shine more fair. 

Nor birds, stars, blossoms, sun, moon, gold, 

Nor all the charms of art. 
Such magic glories can unfold, 

As virtuous woman's heart. 

The gold of Ophir has no weight 
When balanced with true love: 

Without it, all the wise and great 
Are less than one poor dove ! 

I ask not to be loved by those — 

The fickle and the weak — 
That change with every air that blows, 

And changes only seek ; 

But such I ask as thou canst give, 
Unblemished, bright, and true, — 

With such, 'tis pleasure here to live. 
Without it — -joy, adieu ! 

When thou art near me do I feel 

Thy virgin powers to bless ; 
Eor though in sorrows, thou canst heal 
Them all with thy caress. 

Thy bosom is a reservoir 
Of love refined and rare ; 



GREER'S POEMS. 

And humbly kneeling at its door, 
I drink true pleasure there. 

'Twould grieve my soul to see thee weep, 

If grief had thee distresst ; 
For trouble ne'er should move the deep 

Of thine unsullied breast. 

It grieves me, too, from thee to part, 

With whom I love to dwell ; 
For oh ! it always wounds my heart 

To say that sad — ^Farewell ! 



245 



Stttnjtt. 

My heart is full of poetry— 
My brain is full of fancy ; 

But nothing in the world I see 
So sweet as blue-eyed Nancy. 



(TOe DeatO of Oames 31. W. 

Oh, mourning mother 1 weep no more, 

For James is richly blest ; 
His cares and troubles all are o'er, 

v2 



246 GREER'S POEMS. 

And now on Canaan's flowery shore, 
His weary soul's at rest. 

Here, in this world, the cruel dart 

Of death may give us pain ; 
And though we may be cast apart, 
Why should it wound or grieve the heart ? 
For we can meet again. 

Within the gloomy grave we all 

Must soon be laid to sleep ; 
The rich and poor alike must fall 
When the Almighty's voice shall call, 

Though fiends around us weep. 

Death had no terrors for his soul. 

No dread the gloomly vale ;• 
He saw old Jordan's billows roll, 
Beyond, he viewed the heavenly goal, 
■ And for it struck his sail. 

Oh, father! lift thj^ streaming eyes, 

And fix them fast above ; 
Thy son is ranging o'er the skies. 
Where thou, if faithful, soon shall rise. 

And join his song of love. 

The God who heareth when we plead 
His all-supporting grace, 



-10* 



aRKER'S POEMS. 

Shall be thy aid in time of need ; 
And when thy 'soul from clay is freed, 
'Twill soar to his embrace. 

Oh, brothers! turn your thoughts away 

From earth and earthly things. 
To realms of everlasting day, 
Where James in an unceasing lay. 
The theme of glory sings. 

And, sisters! heartless death has slain 

A brother near and dear ; 
But though bereaved, do not complain, 
Your loss is Jiis eternal gai7i, 

In the celestial sphere. 

X 

Companion of his bosom, oh! 

In heaven put thy trust, 
For soon, alas ! the fatal blow, 
May, with thy husband, lay thee low. 

To minde with the dust ! 

Yes, stricken one, prepare, prepare. 

To meet his soul above. 
Where sorrow, trouble, pain nor care, 
Nor parting sighs nor tears are there, 

For Heaven is full of love ! 



U7 



248 GREER'S POEMS. 

ilttijfor. 

He^s dead! The mighty Hero is no more ! 
That heart, that trembled not when even earth 
Itself shook fearfully, as rank on rank 
And swarm on furious swarm went rolling o'er 
Its crouching bosom, sleeps the wakeless sleep. 
The sound went weeping like the lightning's wing 
O'er mountain, vale and stream, that he whose voice 
To battle's thunders gave a double tone, 
Lay cold and stiff in sterile death's embrace. 
The penetrating sound each ear awakes. 
And sends a thrill of sorrow through each breast. 
And now what awful, death-like stillness reigns ; 
And from Atlanta's ebbing border stretched 
Across to broad Pacific's flowing tide, 
A veil of mourning hangs. A heavy cloud 
Like night's dim shadow o'erwhelms the land, 
And from it party thunders threatening roll. 
Columbia, gathering in her wide-spread folds 
And floating sails, comes forth with mournful tread, 
And humbly bows around the patriot brave, 
And bathes the icy corpse in bitter tears ! 

America! alas! you've lost a star. 
As bright as ever gemed the hero sky : 
Plucked suddenly from Constellation fair 
At such a time, at crisis such, by death's 



GREER'S POEMS. 249 

Strong grasp- — enough to bend a nation's head, 
And pour a flood of sorrow o'er the land. 
Ye stricken sons of Freedom ! mourn and weep, 
For ye have lost a mighty leader now. 
He dauntless led his bands of free-born sons 
Right up to howling battle's horrid front, 
And there, before its tempest-scowling gloom, 
He raised his voice in ringing thunder-tones, 
" On! on! my braves, the victory is ours!" 

And when o'erwhelming numbers, and enraged. 

His little band that never cowered, met. 

And loudly rolled the dismal cannon peals 

Down Mexique's gory vales, and wild'ring groans 

Of dying victims rent the reeking air ; 

When sword and musket's clash and clangor cleft 

The darkened sky, and leaden vollies poured 

Showers of death among the bristling ranks ; — 

And when the solid wrathy multitude 

Of Mexique's boasted troops came crowding on. 

He shouted o'er the battle's furious din, 

" But few we are, but victory is ours ! " 

He lead his fearless "few" through heat and cold, 
Through fire and flood, o'er wintry mountain-tops. 
And burning sands, and ravines wild and deep, 
To fight for — doubtful justice; — but he stood 
Unconquerable, matchless, unalarmed. 
He labored hard in Freedom's glorious cause. 



250 



GREER'S POEMS. 



And conquered all that met him m his march, 
Until the "King of Terrors" struck the blow — 
The fatal blow that smote him to the dust. 
Great giant Captain ! when he fell 'twas like 
The loftiest cedar of Libanus' brow, 
By some mysterious providence, uptorn 
And withered, fallen — dead! with none around 
To reach its matchless growth, its wondrous height. 
He fell — and as the cedar's crashing fall 
Is heard wild sweeping through the wilderness — 
So heard the world the noble Chieftain's fall ; — 
So heard the world ! — and all began to mourn. 

But, though he sleeps his last, long, wakeless sleep. 
And moulders back into his mother earth, 
His name shall live for centuries to come. 
Approaching nigh the unexampled height. 
Where stands, in golden characters serene. 
Immortal, sacred, reverenced, sublime. 
The name, the glorious name of Washington ! 
My heart thrills with, a rapture wild and sweet, 
To sing the name of him whose power chained 
Proud Britain's savage, furious hounds of war. 
Her tyrant king, of his dominion o'er 
Our country, dispossessed, and set it free, — 
Redeemed it from the yoke of tyranny ; 
But ah ! I shudder when the gloomy thought 
Comes wand'ring o'er my brain, that it is not 
From bondage wholly free as then it was. 



GREER'S POEMS. 



251 



Tongues yet unborn will speak a Taylor's praise : 
A warrior bold, a hero conquerless, — 
•He went to battle with a fearless heart, 
And fought — but not for fame — for liberty. 
When bullets thickly hummed about his head, 
And bayonets rattled round his sturdy breast, 
And fiendish yells of cowering multitudes 
Rung on his ear, — 'twas then his country's love 
Lit up his soul, and urged him on to meet 
His foes and win the glorious victory. 

Oh ! stretch afar the sable mourning pall ; 

Hang mourning on the hoary Alpine peaks. 

That kings may see and drop a sorrowing tear ; 

From every mountain-top let mourning stream. 

And scarfs of black enwrap our country's hills ; 

For we have lost a mighty General, 

A President, a hero, and a man! 

He stemmed the blasts of many adverse winds. 

And trod oftimes the vale of poverty ; 

Again the summit of prosperity 

He arched, and plenty round him richly smiled. 

His dying words how simple, yet how grand! 

How beautiful! how grave! and how sublime! 

" My duty I have strictly tried to do — 

I am prepared to go and meet my Judge." 

And thus he left the gloomy shore of Time, 

Launched out his barque and sailed in peace to Heaven. 



252 GKEEtt'S POEMS. 

Oh, for a tongue to swell the praise 

Of him who died for me ! 
I'd magnify his boundless grace, 
And chant the bliss of his embrace, 

In tones from anguish free. 

'Twas even Christ, the Son of God, 

Who left the world above. 
And traveled down the starry road 
To shed for man his sacred blood, 

And fill the earth with love. 

Though all unworthy of his care. 

Still yet for me he died. 
That I might of his mercy share. 
And not be lost in black despair. 

But in his love abide. 

My sins have alienated me 

From his redeeming blood ; 
But still he calls, — "Return, and be 
Unbound from Satan's chains, — be free. 
And walk the heavenly road. 

" My lamp of love shall guide thy feet 
Through every scene of life ; 



GREER'S POEMS. 253 

And when the winds of trouble beat, 
Thj every want I'll amply meet, 
And calm the Avaves of strife. 

"A crown of cruel thorns I wore, 

Was scourged and spit upon ; 
A cross of rugged wood I bore, 
And groaned and died — what could I more 

Than that which I have done, 

" To save mankind from Heaven's ire, 

From ruin, death and hell ? 
Come sinners, all, to me aspire, 
For God is a consuming fire, 

Unless in me ye dwell!" 



eOcrc is a IrioOter HJorfO 

There is a world where all is bright, 

Where beauty never fades ; 
Where, flaming with eternal light, 
Its scenery opens on the sight. 

Ne'er dimmed by evening shades. 

The blossoms there forever bloom 

Upon the shining hills ; 
And there is dug no dismal tomb ; 
w 



254 GREER'S POEMS. 

Nor clouds o'ercast its skies with gloom ; 
Nor sin its pleasures kills. 

There death his bow has never bent, 

Nor twirled his darts severe ; 
The bosom there is never rent 
With sorrow, grief nor discontent, 
Nor lashed by guilty fear. 

There life shall never, never end 

On that celestial shore, 
Nor passion's fiery waves contend : 
In love unnumbered myriads blend 

Their songs for evermore. 

There lightnings never flash around, 

Nor thunders ever roll ; 
But strains melodious there resound, 
And harmony 's in every sound. 

And joy in every soul. 

There crystal waters richly flow 

In an unwasting flood ; 
And there the eyes of angels glow 
With holy rapture as they bow 

Before the throne of God. 

The Saviour died that we might all 

That happy land possess, 
Atid sends his servants out to call 



GREER'S POEMS. 

Each rebel man from Satan's thrall, 
T' enjoy its lovelmess. 

How I would love, on Seraph's wing 

To range that happy place ! 
There I would shout, there I would sing 
The praises of my Saviour, King, 

And bless him for his grace. 

Along the stream of life I'd stray, 

And gather flowers of love 
That flourish there and ne'er decay; 
Or, on light pinions, soar away 

To an Elysian grove, 

And through its solitudes would roam 

In meditation sweet ; 
For oh ! that is a glorious home, 
Where cares and discords never come, 

And pleasure is complete I 



255 



31Tonung. 

Night wanes— the vapors round the mountains curled. 

Melt into mom, and Light awakes the world. 

Byron. 

Hail cloudless morning! thou dost come again 
In all the glories of thy Eden birth, 



256 



GREER'S POEMS. 



To stir and clieer a silent, slumb'ring world. 
Sweet is thy blush upon the starry sky, 
And thrice delightful are the golden hues 
Thou scatterest over" woodland, tide and field. 
The oriental heavens now are touched 
With amber tints that charm my soul away ; 
And from before tliem rolls the darkness back, 
Or rather seems to melt and disappear. 
As smoke before the breeze is lost to view. 

Fair morn ! how beautiful thy presence is ! 

Thy beams fall softly back o'er smiling earth, 

As golden tresses o'er a maiden's cheek. 

The moon grows pale and gathers home her rays 

From space that kindles with a brighter glow: 

She ruled the earth when thou, exulting morn! 

Awoke the sleepers of another realm ; 

She ruled when throurrh the forest stole the wolf. 

The panther o'er the rocks and rugged hills, 

And bruin in the vales; she fades away, 

She shrouds her silv'ry cheek in blooming space. 

And leans away toward the shadowy west. 

The stars — those wondrous gems that deck the skies — 
Those distant worlds that spangle earth's tall roof — 
Now close themselves from view, nor deign to smile 
Upon this stirring sphere. An hour ago 
Innumerable multitudes shone forth 
And glowed, and danced on ether-cushioned seats: 
They now can sleep upon elastic beds, 



GUEER'S POEMS. 



257 



Or softly lounge on SoVs upended beams; 
Or turning, look away through other tracts 
To fairer orbs that cluster on the verge 
Of space's dismal bounds remote ; — where may, 
To all eternity in splendor roll 
Infinite worlds, unknown to finite man 
Who vainlj^ tries to comprehend the skies — 
To find what God has hidden from his eyes — 
To grasp w^ithin his puny fist the spheres, 
And check the onward sweeping tide of years,- - 
To tame the elements around him driven, 
And breast the thunders of eternal Heaven ! 

Oh, hallowed morn! thou comest in thy grace, 
And, stretching forth thy long, bright, fiery arms, 
With hands of mystic, heavenly fuel full, 
Dost kindle up the world with golden light — 
Dost crowd the Universe with wondrous flame ! 
To meet thy coming, mighty ocean rolls 
To eastern shore her pondrous tide of brine, 
And swells her bass eternal at thy dawn. 
The "rock-ribbed mountains" nod their heads 
With verdant cedar-tresses richly graced, 
Embrace and kiss thy far-extending beams. 

Though morn the darkness backward drives before 
Its coming in the east, yet, close around 
It steals with noiseless tread, as though to haste 
It on its march — to blast the light of day, 
And smother e'en the radiance of the sun : 

\v2 



258 



GREER'S POEMS. 



But ah ! too fierce his beams ; too bright his face ; 

Too noble his designs, to daunted be 

By darkness' scowls, or beasts, or moon-eyed owls: 

He sits the ruling god on morning's cheek; 

Then proudly mounts the broad blue heavens up ; 

Illuminates the upper realms of space, 

And radiates the verdant fields of earth. 



£ooe'5 OnfTuence. 

Oh ! love into the soul will steal, 
And stamp in everj^ avenue 

An undecaying, deathless seal. 

Whose brightness is — -forever true. 

It draws like chords of strongest make. 
And causes us to laugh and weep; 

It makes us happy while awake, 
And happy in the arms of sleep. 

It fills the heart with streams of joy, 
And lights it with a zealous flame: 

Oh! who its raptures dare destroy? 
Or who that loves, to chide or blame ? 



The angels sport on silvery wings 
Around the soul that truly loves, 



• 



GREER'S POEMS. 



259 



And strike their wands upon its strings, 
Till each bright chord with glory moves. 



d Ma(\n for nu) ijeart. 

When my bosom with sorrow is pressed, 

When my spirit grows languid and faint, 
When sooty despair is my guest, 
To heaven I lift my complaint ; 
And my Saviour descends with a balm for my heart, 
And says to my troubles and sorrows, "depart!" 



C(eertij===8faueri), 

Oh, Liberty! what a delightful word! 
How full of meaning! how it thrills the soul! 
'Twas an inhabitant of lieaven ere 
Jehovah in his v.isdom shaped a world ; 
And when the earth from everlasting night 
Sprang forth in loveliness, a perfect sphere, 
'Twas free to roll its silent circles round 
The sun, — 'twas free to sweep majestic through 
The regions of illimitable space, 
And praise the universal Architect. 



260 



GREER'S POEMS 



Yea ! earth was free ! the genial atmosphere 
That whispered through the groves of Paradise; 
And every bird that clapped its buoyant wings 
And voiced its music 'mong the blooming trees ; 
The fish that swam the seas and crystal streams ; 
The beasts that grazed upon a thousand hills ; 
And Man, the lord of all the earth — was free ; — 
And all that was, and is, and is to be, 
Were formed for freedom, not for cruel chains, 
But in un trammeled happiness to live. 
As the Almighty made them at the, first. 
HoAV sweet is liberty wherever found ! 
How full of music, full of joy the sound ! 

But man — my brother man — I blush to own 

Him such — the haughty lordhng tyrant, deigns 

To bind in fetters what his God made free ! 

Eternal Justice! where's thy thunder-bolts? 

Why have they not been hurled in vengeance down 

To scathe the hearts of those who chains have forged 

To clank upon and gall their fellow-men ? 

Eternal Mercy! spare the tyrant; spare 

The proud oppressor, humble him; awake 

Him to his duty indispensable. 

That he may set the slave at liberty. 

Eternal God! disarm him of his power. 

And let the groaning captives all arise 

From nature's darkness, — more^ — from slavery's night, 

That they may hail the glorious gospel light, 

And thee embrace, whom, now, they are denied. 



GREER'S POEMS. 



261 



Oh, crushed, despised, neglected, bleeding race! 

In Gilead there is jet a balm for jou. 

The day will come, — God, roll it soon around, — 

When you shall be redeemed; when you no more 

Shall toil and groan beneath the cruel lash; 

When you shall see your captors tremble, fall, 

And recognize you as their fellow-men; 

When you shall meet the Saviour of the world, 

And his salvation in vour hearts embrace. 

Salvation! speed thy blessings to the poor, 

Benighted, groping sons of Afric's clime! 

Behold, ye angels! Heaven all behold, 

And then deliver from captivity, 

Before they turn and spill the blood of those 

Who now dominion o'er them wrongly hold. 

Here, where the flag of liberty is hung 
On every hill, and floats in every breeze ; 
Where every man a christian claims'to be. 
Or can, if ho the title choose to claim, — 
Except — ah! shall I say it? — in our land. 
Just over there upon our southern plains — 
Are thirty-seven hundred thousand^ bound 
Beneath oppression's clanking manacles; 
And whose identity as men^ has been 
Almost extinguished by a heartless gang 
Of— what? of men? of christians? No! ah, no!- 
Of tyrants? Yes! who steal away the rights 
That God has given to their fellow-men; 



262 



GREER'S POEMS. 



Yea, even more, who steal their fellows, too; 
Who drag the husband from his weeping wife, 
His children, home, and friends, and all he holds 
Most dear on earth ; from all that makes life sweet ; 
And from the mourning husband tear his wife, 
Upon whose bosom hangs a prattling babe, 
Its father's pride, its mother's greatest care; 
Part brothers, sisters, fathers, mothers, friends, 
And husbands, wives, and faithful lovers, all, 
And to eternal bondage them consign. 

Oh, Afric's injured, hapless, tortured sons! 
For you I weep ; for you my bosom bleeds ; 
I mourn for your misfortune, and would fain 
Alleviate your sufferings if I could. 
For you I sigh, for you I'll ever plead; 
For you my prayers to Jacob's God shall rise ; 
Because the sacred light of liberty. 
The bible, education, heaven, all, 
That tends to cheer and happify the soul, 
Seems barred, alas! forever from your sight. 
Must you, in clanking chains drag out your lives. 
And die at last beneath the tasker's lash. 
Without a sympathizing tear? Oh, no! 
Shall you, oh ! trampled race ! be left to grope 
Your way to ruin, while around you throng 
A multitude who say they're bound for heaven. 
And yet are willing not that you should go. 
Because your great Creator made you black? 



GREEK'S POEMS, 



263 



Although your cheeks bear not the rose's bloom, 

You have immortal souls, that shall not wear 

A distinct color in another world. 

Ah! who would say the soul that emanates 

Direct from God, cannot return to Him 

Acceptable, well-pleasing in His sight? 

He who would say ''America is free^'' 

Doth err — the term is wrong — 'tis blasphemous, 

'Tis false ! 'tis false ! Had I ten thousand tongues, 

A voice as loud as thunder seven-fold. 

And lungs of strength unfailing, I would send 

The echo o'er my loved land ; would pour 

It in a strain of burning eloquence 

On every ear ; would shout it to the world ; 

Would thunder at the door of every heart 

That beats on proud Columbia's sacred soil; 

Would preach to all the everlasting truth, — 

America, the boasted land of light 
And gospel privilege, where each should find 
A friend and helper in his fellow-man, 
Owns, fosters, sanctions, fathers, institutes, 
A species of oppression vile, of all 
Most vile, inhuman and contemptible. 
That ever cursed the earth since time began 1 
Oh, shame to such abominations, shame! 
Because that God to Afric's sons has given 
Submissive dispositions, humble hearts, 
We'd make them slaves! Almighty God, 
Destroy the institution ; tyranny 



264 



GREER'S POEMS, 



Destroy ; thy power, thy will make known on earth ; 
Awake some mighty storm and send it forth 
In vengeance, terror, thunders and alarm, 
Across our land, and drive the principle, 
The cursed principle of Slavery, 
Wild shrieking back into its native hell ! 



eOe Bcptirtcb (Companion. 

I saw a tottering man of many years, 
One evening wandering alone beneath 
The verdent branches of a giant elm. 
A gentle breeze around him softly moved, 
And lightly shook the leaves above his head. 
The sun's last beams of glory now withdrew 
Their golden hues from off" the waving sprays, 
That rose from out the bosom of the tree ; 
And round him bloomed a multitude of flowers. 
Poor man! his morn of life was gone, his noon 
Had passed away, his evening shade had come. 
His hoary head with palsy shook, and down 
His furrowed cheek fell sorrow's bitter tears. 

Ah! yes; he stood within the church-yard walls. 
Whore slept the peaceful dead ; and round his feet 
The yellow earth was scattered o'er the sod. 
Upon his staff he leaned himself, and sighed ; 
For there that morn he saw the charnel-house 



GREER'S POEMS, 



265 



Extend its clajej jaws, and swallow down 

The loved companion of his early life. 

Whilst there he stood with downcast, streaming eyes, 

And heart o'ershadowed by a cloud of grief, 

These words he spake, unconscious he was heard : — 

" Insatiate Death ! thy ruthless hand hath laid 

My Mary low forever ; thou hast torn 

My mate, my partner, comforter away ; 

The one who strewed my early path with flowers. 

And down through life partook my griefs and cares, 

My joys and sorrows, bliss, afflictions, ills : 

Yea, thou, in one sad moment, snatched away 

The pillow where my weary head reclined 

For three-score years, and laid it in the dust. 

And soon this palsied tenement of mine. 

Shall side by side lie mouldering with hers. 

'Twill be a welcome day, a happy hour. 

When I shall go to dwell with her again." 

Thus having said, his knees beneath him sank. 

And, bending lowly o'er the yellow mound. 

He breathed to God a deep and fervent prayer: — 

" Great God ! if 'tis thy will divine, 

Pronounce the stern behest. 
And let this longing soul of mine 

Go home and be at rest. 

" Oh ! set me free from pain and strife — 
From this dark, dreary waste. 



266 GREER'S POEMS. 

And with the partner of my life 
Undying comforts taste. 

" There in a brighter world than this, 
We'll meet to part no more ; 

There we shall dwell where Jesus is, 
And sing our sorrows o'er." 



Zo a ScOoof ailistress. 

Miss Pedagoguess — please to pardon me 
For calling thee 
Such an unlucky, heartless name ; 
But, by the by, I cannot see 
How thou canst blame. 
When both thy titles are about the same : 

Yes ; pardon me, if, for a lack of wit, 
I should commit 
Some errors, which I truly may, 
While here alone, I, musing sit. 
At close of day. 
And dream (as I suppose) the hours away. 

I listen to the chiming of the breeze 
Among the trees ; 
And think how pleasant to the ear. 
Beside those mystic A^ B, C's, 



GREER'S POEMS. 267 

It is to hear 
The natural music of our ' mundane sphere.' 

In " RaytVs'*^ cheerless, darh dominions, thou 
Art stationed now, 
Among a ragged urchin crew. 
To " teach the young ideas how 
To shoot"— I do 
Not envy thee thy station — that is true ! 

'Tis no disgrace, at all, for thee to sway 

A birchen spray 

O'er such a little flock as thine. 

And toil along from day to day, 

With the design 

To make their tender intellects to shine. 

If any thy profession should despise. 
They are not wise ; 
For there is scarce another trade 
So honorable neath the skies : 
By every grade 
Should reverence to it e'er be strictly paid. 

The patience of the ''man of Uz'*^ should be 
Possessed by thee. 
And all in thy vocation ; all 
Should strive in true sincerity. 
To disenthral 
The mind ; to set it free from ignorance' stall. 



268 GREEK'S POEMS. 

Our destinies are one — for mine is thine, 
Or thine is mine, 
Just which you please — " both thee and me," 
Are taking passage in one line 
Upon the sea, — 
Our vessel's name is Pedagoguert ! 

The sea is rough, but still I hope we yet 
To port may get. 
With both our jolly crews alive ; — 
Not much I know should I regret 
To leave my hive, 
But still to see it 'mid the waves survive. 

Oh ! that the muse my heart would more inspire 
With rhyming fire, 
I'd raise my strain a key or two ; 
But as it fills not my desire. 
What can I do 
More than to bid thee, friendly Miss, adieu? 



Z()e Coocr to ^is 3ntenbeb. 

Thou art the dearest to my heart 
Of all I've met on earth before : 

This gives me pleasure : we'll ne'er part 
Until our dream of life is o'er. 



GREER'S POEMS. 



269 



What pleasant moments we have spent, 
Since first upon thy blooming breast 

I laid my head and felt content 
That it should there forever rest. 

Yes — on thy breast of fairest mould, 

With soul entranced, my cheek hath lain, 
While time away in silence rolled. 

Nor rolled its hours for us in vain, 
For we were forming sacred ties, 

To bind our hearts, for life, in one. 
While angels bowed from yonder skies. 

To witness what we spake and done. 

In thine embrace — 0, blest repose! 

My throbbing heart e'er longs to be ; 
And in my arms thy form t' enclose, 

Is perfect happiness for me. 
Our vows are made in truth and love, 

Our pledges to each other given, 
That nature's strictest laws approve. 

And which are sanctioned by all heaven. 

Together we expect to dwell 
In peace and harmony and joy: 

May trouble's billows never swell, 
Our calm of pleasure to destroy. 

'Tis not in beauty's winning power 
To draw my heart from thee away, 

x2 



270 



GREER'S POEMS. 



For deeper, every flying hour, 

Grows my desire with thee to stay. 

I look with feelings of dehght 

To that blest hour, when we shall stand 
At Hymen's altar, glowing bright. 

And be united heart and hand ! 
Then — then like doves together joined. 

Our rolling years we'll sweetly spend. 
With all our interests combined. 

As ocean's mass of waters blend. 

And since I feel that thou art mine. 

My pilgrim thoughts have ceased to roam. 
But with thy being seem to twine. 

And in thy bosom dwell at home. 
Thou art my guiding star of life, 

To lead me through life's wilderness ; 
Though scenes of sorrow and of strife 

Assail me, thou wilt cheer and bless. 

And if in full prosperity 

My steps by Providence are led, 
A sharer of it thou shalt be, 

Still pouring blessings on my head ; 
And if affliction cast me down, 

Thy tender hand wilt raise me up ; 
Or, if misfortune on me frown. 

Thou wilt make sweet its bitter cup. 



GREER'S POEM! 



271 



While wandering all alone by day, 

Or rambling in the stilly night, 
To think of thee drives grief away. 

And fills my bosom with delight ; 
And when upon my couch of rest 

I lay my frame in sweet repose, 
Blest thoughts of thee steal through my breast 

As sleep's soft curtains round me close ! 

When mingling with society. 

The smiles of others oft I meet. 
But they are void of charms for me, — 

Thy smiles alone are truly sweet ; 
And when I Ust thee breathe thy love. 

In tones so soothing, mild and clear, 
It falls like accents, from above. 

Of angels whispering in mine ear. 

My heart is thine forevermore : 

'Tis full of fervent love for thee ; 
And when a few brief days are o'er. 

Our vows shall then accomplished be. 
We've pledged to each our heart and hand. 

To journey down life's rugged way ; 
And 0, may love's unsullied band 

Still bind us closer every day. 
Until we reach that happy land. 

Where we shall part no more for aye 1 



272 GREER'S POEMS 

A Song. 

Forget me not where'er thou art, 
When thou this token dost behold : 

I'll keep th^ memory in my heart, 
As richer far than pearls or gold. 

When morning spreads her wings of light 
In grandeur o'er the broad, blue sky, 

I'll send my thoughts in sweet delight, 
To bring thy lovely image nigh. 

When noon invites me to repose, 

I'll seek the shade of some wild bower, 

And think of thee, where softly blows 

The fragrant breeze, and blooms the flower. 

When silent eve draws on apace. 
Oh, doubly sweet it then will be. 

To seek some solitary place. 

And think of nothing else, save thee. 

And when still midnight darkly reigns 
O'er earth's broad bosom, then I'll rove, 

Forgetful of my griefs and pains, 
But not forgetful of my love. 

Say, is it vain to love ? oh, no ! 
The angels love, Oieii why not we? 



GREER'S POEMS. 



273 



Love makes our Eden here below ; 
It blends our hearts in unity. 

The fool may call it folly's height, 

And shun its holy influence, 
While groping down through rayless night, 

And proud at being void of sense. 

When two young hearts each other love, 
Who dare to censure or to blame ? 

Oh ! who so base as to reprove. 

Or try to quench the blissful flame ? 

The days are passing swiftly by, 

But each one brings some new delight, 

When I can see thy mild black eye, 
Outvieing e'en the sapphire bright. 

My stubborn spirit bows to thee, 

Which, to another, scarce would kneel; 

Nor can I deem myself quite free. 
Nor quite my slavery conceal : 

To be a captive at thy shrine, 
Is pleasure, unadmixt with pain ; 

And who is once a slave of thine. 
Ne'er wishes to be free again ! 

Not till my sun of life is set, 

Not till my heart shall beat no more, 



274 



GREER'S POEMS. 



Will I regret the hour we met, 
And felt awhile our sorrows o'er. 

Though I may ride on ocean's tide, 
Or roam Sahara's burning waste, 

Yet still 'twill be a bliss for me, 
To think upon thy virtues chaste. 

And we must part — 'tis Fate's decree — 
Though it will wring our hearts with wo ; 

But I mil e'er remember thee. 
As swiftly down to death I go. 



do 



I worship not false beauty — no ! 
'Twere vanity to worship so ; 
Nor does my bosom deign to move 
At any touch save that of love ; 
But when my soul devoted feels, 
When virtue such as thine reveals 
Itself to me — 'tis then alone 
I deem my heart is not a stone. 

I now traverse the sunny land. 
Where first I stretched my truant hand 
To pluck the flowers from the hill, 
And by the willow-curtained rill ; 



GllEEK'S POEMS. 

And while I think of childhood gay, 
How swiftly it hath passed away, 
My thoughts are wont to turn and flee 
In streams of love away to thee ! 

While here I roam from place to place, 
My early haunts I fondly trace, 
And trace them both in mind and view. 
But weep to bid them now adieu. 
Perhaps I'll visit them no more. 
Their sacred scenes to ramble o'er ; 
But soon I'll go to seek thy face, 
And meet again thy warm embrace. 

Oh, sweet reflection! blessed thought! 
That e'er thy cheerful face I sought ; 
And on thy bosom found a rest. 
That will forever make me blest. 
Where'er I turn, where'er I roam 
Through this fair region, once my home, 
I meet with those whose smiles are dear. 
But there's a void — thou art not here! 

And now within the pleasant wood, 
Where all is peace and solitude, 
I sit me down to muse of thee. 
Whose smihng face I long to see ; 
0, had I pinions now to soar 
These woody hills and valleys o'er, 



275 



276 



GREER'S POEMS. 



How soon would I again be blest, 
To lean upon thy virgin breast ! 

" I would not give thy bosom pain," 

Where love's unsullied glories reign ; 

No ! sooner that the azure sky 

Should bear the sun and moon no more on high, 

Sweet girl! I only ask thy smile, 

Unmixt with falsity or guile, 

To make me feel that in thine arms. 

There is for me a ivorld of charms ! 

Adown my cheek there steals a tear, 
For I am sad and lonely here ; 
But when thy face again I see, 
Then — then I'll cease to sigh for thee. 
The notes of a poor turtle dove 
Are softly floating through the grove. 
Which deeper on my heart impress 
The knowledge of my loneliness. 

The summer breeze, from bough to bough, 
Is stealing forth in whispers low ; 
So time steals on from day to day, 
To haste my steps to thee away, 
Where joys subHme shall fill my soul. 
And from my heart this sadness roll : 
There, in the blessedness of love. 
Our plighted faith to each we'll prove. 



GREER'S POEMS. 277 

Though ruthless pains distract my frame, 
Mj heart — my heart is still the same, 
-For there's a deathless something there, 
That burns in spite of fell despair. 
Oh! that I could impart my mind, 
And let my feelings, unconfined, 
Flow forth, that thou might'st plainly see, 
Their channel runs direct to thee. 

Why should I thus myself express ? 

Thou canst not doubt my faithfulness. 

For I have given thee my heart, 

And both have vowed — 'Sve'll never part: " 

The rose shall lose its charming hue 

Ere I will prove to be untrue ; 

For I, like yonder mourning dove, 

" Will die — and know no second love!" 



30e 3lescuc. 

Some months ago the Monongalia rose 

Above all former swells; strange it may seem, 

A "Doctor's office" — so the story goes — 

Was witnessed "floating down the restless stream.' 

'Twas first discovered where the water ran 
Among Virginia's hills, with furious force, 



278 



GREER'S POEMS. 



Sweeping to desolation the abodes of man, 
And spreading wild destruction in its course. 

"The ark moved on," upon the angrj tide; 

( Not piloted lilce Noah's ark that sat 
Upon the ' shoreless deep,' ) no hand to guide 

Its course was there, save one poor, " luckless eat!" 

No doubt he thought, (if cats do think at all,) 

That he was an unfortunate feline. 
To journey thus in Esculapius' hall. 

With nought but ' nasty drugs ' on which to dine. 

To be shut up in such a fearful place, 

Would frighten man himself, where he could view 
The bottled poison stare him in the face. 

And turbid waves his palace dashing through. 

"Poor fellow!" how he must have felt distrest, 
(If cats can feel,) to be fixed as he was. 

Without an arm his hurry to arrest, 

And save him from destruction's gaping jaws. 

Perhaps his kittenhood was gayly spent 

In sporting with his maize-bred kin; but lo! 

He witnessed now that destiny had sent 
Him hurry scury — where — he didn't know. 

By lucky chance the ark was shoreward borne. 
And wrecked — but not submerged — amid a heap 



GREER'S POEMS. 



279 



Of anything you choose ; there puss, forlorn, 
Sent forth his cries for rescue from the deep. 



And there was one among the lookers-on, 

Whose heart was touched ; he breasted " wind and 



wave;" 



Pushed out upon the surging tide alone, 
Determined, at his peril, puss to save, — 

And so he did ; — no doubt he left the place 
A happy man for treating pussy kind : 

And now, dear reader, if you view the case, 
In it a useful moral you may find. 



SOe Victims of tOe Storm. 

A few years since, as a trading boat was passing down the 
Youghiogheny river, at a place called the "Big Falls," it was met 
by a stoi'm, and wrecked against the rocks on the shore. There 
were three men on board who perished in the waves. 

The rain in torrents thick and fast. 

Came gushing from the cloud, 
And onward swept the wailing blast, 

Till forests 'neath it bowed ; 
And Youghiogheny's swelling tide, 

Its billows rolled on high ; 
And dashed them out from side to side, 

With shriek and hollow cry. 



280 GREER'S POEMS. 

Ah! see them drive against yon wall 
Of rocks, and fling their spray 

Far up the hills where tempests wawl, 
And deep toned thunders bray. 

Behold the pines and poplars dash 

Beneath the storm's fierce might: 
It drags them up with furious crash, 

And w^iirls them down the height! 
Oh, dreadful storm! thy terrors fierce. 

Would shake the stoutest heart: 
Thy bolts descending seem to pierce 

And rift the hills apart ; 
Upon thy black, terrific wings. 

Bides forth the dreadful God, 
And from His fist in anger flings 

Ilis glittering shafts abroad ! 

He speaks — the clanging thunders roll. 

And leap from hill to hill ; 
He guides the storm at His control ; 

He smiles — and all is still. 
Convolving arch! athwart thy dark. 

Tumultuous vast I gaze: 
How wild the thunders roar — oh, hark! 

And red the lightnings blaze. 
I tremble as a fearful sight 

Breaks on my mental eye ; 
My soul starts up with wild affright. 

Such horror to descry. 



U IIKER'S POEMS. 



281 



There — there I view a reehiig boat, 

Where foaiuiu^^ water raves; 
Impossible that it may float 

In safety o'er the waves. 
Three men I see upon the deck, 

Who gaze with wild despair ; 
Alas ! they know their boat must wreck, 

And they shall perish there. 
The maddening tempest seems to mock 

Their piteous, luckless state ; — 
See ! how they plunge toward that rock, 

To meet a horrid fate ! 

With all his strength each grasps an oar, 

But 'tis of no avail : 
The surges heave them to the shore ; 

Their cheeks are deadly pale. 
She strikes the rock — 0, heaven, save 

Tliem from the sinking wreck ! 
There ! o'er it rolls an angry wave, 
• And sweeps them oft* the deck. 
Oh, God! stretch forth thy mighty arm, 

Into the bubbling surge, 
And help the victims of the storm. 

Or they must now submerge ! 

They're gone ! — Oh ! see the heavens split 

With ragged streaks of lire ; 
And seems the vault, with vengeance lit, 

To stoop, and growl with ire : 

y2 



282 GREER'S POEMS. ^ 

Hoarse thunders roar and mutter o'er 

The avalanchmg waves, 
That heave and meet, and foam and beat, 

Above the boatmen's graves: 
Their dje was cast — they met the blast, 

And sunk into thee deep: 
The tide swept on, but they were gone, 

To sleep the "wakeless sleep 1" 



Beneath me far, with scene-admiring soul, 

I gaze, and see 
Bright Monoxgalia's lucid waters roll. 

Sublimely free ; 
There thousand thousand sunny wavelets raise 
Their tuneful voices in a hymn of praise. 

And far along the eastern range I view. 

With vast delight. 
The lofty mountains dressed in azure blue. 

Serenely bright: 
Deep in the heavens, tall, majestic, proud. 
They lift their heads, and pierce the floating cloud I 



GREER'S POEMS. 



283 



Efjc Sctttf) of a Ifounfl QivL 

Thou didst wither, fair maiden, and die, 
At the terrible coming of death ; 

Now dim is thy once beaming eye, 
And forever has fled thee thy breath. 

Inanimate now is thy form. 

Thy cheek has groAvn deathly and pale ; 
Thy bosom, once throbbing and warm. 

Is as cold as the clods of the vale. 

Gone, gone to the land of the blest. 
Ere sorrow had made thee its prey; 

Gone, gone to the heavenly rest, 

O'er the fields of bright glory to stray! 

I view thy freed spirit arise. 

As spotless and pure as the dove, 

And hasten away to the skies. 
To dwell with the angels above. 

Thy body must lie in the tomb. 

While ages shall circle along ; , 
Thy spirit in heaven will bloom. 

With anthems of praise on its tongue. 

Thou hast fled from the wiles and the snares 
Of sin and temptation, to reign 



284 



GREER'S POEMS. 



Where sighing, afflictions, and cares, 
Thou never shalt witness again. 

Long life was not thine to possess, 

For the breezes of spring had not passed, 

Till autumn, that mystical guest, 
Swept o'er thee its withering blast. 

The verdure shall soon overspread 

The hard, lowly pillow of clay. 
Sweet maiden, where resteth thy head, 

In premature blight and decay. 

The grave, though a dark, gloomy place. 
To the Christian's a welcome abode; 

Though wrapped there in death's cold embrace, 
The spirit is happy with God. 

Dear girl ! I will never forget 

Thy countenance beaming with love, 

Which here I so often have met — 
But next I shall meet it above. 

Thy youthful companions will mourn 

Full oft, when they think thou art gone; — 

Oh, death! thou hast ruthlessly torn 
From amon£i;st us an amiable one. 

So we are all i^assing away— 

Death's cypress will soon o'er us wave, 



GREER'S POEMS. 

And lowly as thee we shall lay 

In the narrow confines of the grave. 

Thou hast fallen too early, alas! 

So we utter a grievous farewell ; 
But soon to thy rest we shall pass. 

Eternally with thee to dwell. 

When our troubles and trials are o'er, 
We'll soar to the regions above. 

Where we shall the Saviour adore, 
And drink from his ocean of love! 



285 



So tf)e Due rofjom it suits 

Light of mind and careless hearted, 
Cold, unfeeling, loveless, weak; 

Scarcely hast thy wife departed, 
Till another thou dost seek. 

She to whom thy pledge was given, 
She, whose bosom glowed with love. 

Left thine arms and soared to heaven, 
There to meet her babe above. 

In the dreary grave reposing, 
Lies her wasting body low, 



286 



GREER'S POEMS. 



While her kindred dust is closing 
Fast around her faded brow. 

While her lovely form's decaying, 
'Neath the damp and heavy clod, 

Dost thou ever think of straying 
To her lonely, dark abode ? 

Oh ! I fear that thou hast broken 
Pledges thou shouldst sacred keep ; 

And consigned her heart's pure token 
To oblivion's darkling deep. 

How canst thou, so soon returning 
From her tomb, forget thy vow ? 

And to smiles exchange thy mourning, 
And to joy thy sorrow — how ? 

When with hectic fever burning, 
To her bed she beckoned thee, 

Seeing thou wert sad and mourning. 
Saying, " Oh, remember me ! 

*' Husband, I must shortly leave thee, 
(But to die I have no fear :) 

And it seemeth much to grieve thee ; 
Yes, I read it in that tear. 



'> 



" Wilt thou come where I am sleeping. 
And above my place of rest. 



GREER'S POEMS. 



287 



In aiFection for me weeping, 

'Balm mj memory in thy breast." 

Go, false one — go tell the storj 
Of thy love to others — go ! 

Though thy mate is now in glory, 
Canst thou treat her memory so ? 



Z()e 3Srorien=0earte& Cooer, 

A broken-hearted lover thus relates 

The anguish of his disappointed soul : — 

" A score of years serenely rolled away 

Like some broad stream unruffled by a breeze. 

Or shadowed with a cloud : my barque was launched 

Upon its sunny bosom ; and I sailed 

Along in rapture, gazing all around 

At the rich splendor of the opening scene. 

The glorious sun of happiness arose. 

And o'er the waters poured its golden beams; 

No vapor dimmed the upper fields of blue, 

Nor sound discordant broke upon my ear ; 

I left the flowery shore with dancing heart, 

And smoothly glided out upon the deep. 

And all was calm and lovely as a babe 
When sleeping in its watchful iTiother's arras, 



288 



GREEIl'S POEMS. 



Its little soul transporting in a dream 
Of blessed innocence. A breeze arose, 
And softly, gently, lightly stole along 
The crystal waters, freighted with perfume, 
And whispering an anthem in my ear, 
Though pleasantly, yet, 'twas the harbinger 
Of coming tempests — and I knew it not ! 

The songs of birds were swelling out upon 

The fragrant air ; and with their voices, mine 

Was mingled ; with them I w^as truly blest. 

My heart was full of joy, and in my hands 

Were wreaths of blooming flowers, which I copped 

With gladness, dreaming not that they would fade 

And die — fit emblems of myself! of joy! 

Far out I gazed upon the spreading sea, 

That seemed to have no bounds ; but when I looked 

It seemed my eyes were veiled mysteriously. 

Which ga,ve a shadow of uncertainty 

To all before me — all behind was plain. 

I then awoke, and it was but a dream. 

How changed the scene! I startle at the change. 
I looked and saw the sky was overcast 
With gathering vapors, shadowing forth the storm. 
The sun was of his former brilhance robbed, 
And coursed his way in dimness through the mist. 
Around my gliding vessel strangely played 
The babbling ripples ; then the breeze began 
To sigh portentous; larger waves and fierce 



GREER'S POEMS. 



289 



Came rolling o'er the agitated deep 

With threat'ning and alarming turbulence. 

The clouds grew thicker and a fearful gloom 

Seemed hanging round my barque ! away — far off — 

In distance dim, the dreadful thunderer 

Began to beat the furious tempest-drum ; 

Almost was lost its echoes on my ear. 

My vessel like an aspen, shook and rocked 

Convulsively upon the lashing waves. 

The storm arrived, and what a storm it was! 

While heaven frowned, and warred the elements, 

My heart was rifted by a thunder-bolt ; 

Torn, mangled, blasted, desolate, destroyed ! 

The world may sneer at such a tale as this, 

And say that broken hearts there's none ; but ah ! 

'Tis real, 'tis no idle, fickle dream. 

I met a creature beautiful and fair, 

Who won my heart; I loved her with a love 

That seemed to make earth heaven. My soul is sick, 

And so my story must be briefly told : 

And while I tell it, sadly throbs my breast. 

And every life-drop into ice congeals : 

And she was false as fiend of Tartarus! 
A demon in a wreath of roses dressed ; 
A scorpion hidden in a bed of flowers. 
Alluring, but to wound with fatal sting ; 
An adder folded in a lily's leaves. 
Waiting, with greed to fix its poison fangs 



290 



GREER'S POEMS. 



Deep, deep into my unsuspecting heart ! 
Whilst I reflect upon that fatal day, 
What frantic wildness fastens on my brain! 
When she forever gloomed my sun of joy, 
I revelled once on wings of brightest hope. 
And viewed the one I loved as born of heaven ; 
But ah ! I met a look of foul contempt. 
From eyes that seemed to sparkle once with love 
Almost intense as angels : then I bade 
Farewell to hope, to bhss and happiness. 
And in despair expect to droop and die! " 



Sfjc TPoo&s. 

Ye solitary woods ! I love to muse 

In your lone depths, where not a sound I hear 
Of human being ; I would gladly choose 

Such solitude, than meet the scornful sneer 

And scoffs of haughty man, and have my ear 
Forever tortured with the clang of foes : 

Yes, your secluse retreats are doubly dear. 
Because I here can steal away from those 
Who fain would do me wrong, and thus avoid their 
blows. 

I here can listen to the wood-bird's song. 

And 'mong the branches hear it clap its wings; 



GREER'S POEMS. 



291 



And in the cooling shade can tarry long, 

Where strife no sound of discord ever brings 
To mar the spirit, which so fondly clings 

To pleasure with instinctive gravity ; — ■ 
Alas ! how often man mistakes the things 

Most ruinous, for those he deems to be 
Enhancers of his joys : — Man ! blind, and yet can see ! 



My heart desires not the praise, . 

The honor or renown of earth, 
To cheer my spirit, or to raise 

My thoughts to seek for fame or worth : 

Praise but too often makes us vain, 

And honor feeds aspiring pride ; 
Renown and fame are empty gain. 

And mixt with bitterness beside. 

Life is a bubble on the stream 

Of time— and man 's a floating barque ; 
The past is but a varied dream ; 

The future is uncertain, dark. 

Then, while the present we possess. 

While life, and health, and strength endure, 



292 



GREER'S POEMS. 



Each object that can truly bless, 
We should endeavor to secure. 

The present offers now to me 

A theme on which I love to dwell ; — 

Here I can pour mj thoughts to thee 
From tliis wild, solitary dell: 

I am alone — no mortal nigh 

To mar my musings ; and there floats 
A fragrant zephyr softly by, 

Bearing the robin's evening notes. 

A streamlet winds the vale along. 
And murmurs gently at my feet, 

While round me springs a smiling throng, 
That fills the breeze with odors sweet. 

Yes, summer crowns each hill with flowers, 
And with them stores each vale and grove, 

Where we may while the speeding hours. 
In thinking of the ones we love. 

But pleasure's cup hath drops of gall ! 

For some of those we've loved most dear 
Have answered fate's relentless call. 

And fled from off this timely sphere. 

But some remain who have a claim 
To the affections of our heart ; 



GREER'S POEMS. 293 

But it shall be our destiny, 

From them^ too soon, alas ! to part. 

Oh ! were it not for present bliss, 

We could derive but little from 
The past — since all must come to this : 

The past is but oblivion's tomb. 

The hopes of future pleasures keep 

Us partly free from galling care. 
And ward away the storms that sweep 

The soul accustomed to despair. 

Here, in this lonely heart of mine, 
A thousand sorrows dark and dread. 

Are brooding, like the black ensign 
Of battle, o'er the fallen dead. 

A bruised heart ! — what words to me ! 

How big with meaning! full of grief! 
Nor has this world a remedy 

Efficient to afford relief; 

For when that passion of the breast 
Which we call love^ receives a blight, 

We are forever dispossesst 

Of that which gives us true delight. 

Such is, sometimes, the fate of those 
Who form the strongest, dearest ties : 

z2 



294 



GREER'S POEMS. 



They quaff the cup of falsehood's woes, 
And fall, alas! — no more to rise. 

A loving heart! oh, sacred thing, 

Where truth and virtue are combined ! 

What rapture does that sentence fling 
Across the ocean of my mind ! 



When thy soul in sorrow pineth, 
When thy heart is sick with grief. 

When on thorns thy head reclineth. 
Then in Heaven seek relief. 

When the gloomy clouds come o'er thee. 
And the storm around thee blows. 

Pray — and Heaven will restore thee 
To the beauties of repose. 

When the thunders o'er thee rattle. 
When the lightnings round thee burn ; 

'Mid the elemental battle, 

All thy thoughts to Heaven turn. 

When temptations round thee gather, 
Heed them not, but onward press, 



GREER'S POEMS. 



295 



Drawing nearer to thj Father, 
Who will aid thee in distress. 



When the wicked try to harm thee, 
Shun, oh ! shun the cruel snare ; 

Let no earthly power alarm thee, 

Whilst thy heart can breathe a prayer. 

God can hear the sinner pleading, 
And can free the captive soul: 

He can heal the heart that's bleeding ; 
He can make the leper whole. 



A Song. 

There is a thought that cannot perish. 
Brightly painted on my soul ; 

Oh I how fondly I will cherish 

It, while hfe's sweet moments roll ; — 

'Tis, that love once more is burning 
Where dark ruin seemed to reign, 

All my days of being, turning 
Into nights of wo and pain. 

Oft I looked a happy creature. 
When in gay society ; 



296 



GREER'S POEMS. 



But it seemed to be my nature, 
Thus to hide my misery. 

When I laughed 'twas like the breaking 
Of the day-god through* a cloud ; 

Or a fancied corpse awaking 
From beneath its fun'ral shroud. 

Though I sported with the merry, 
Though I seemed to love a jest, 

Yet there was a grief to bury 

Every joy that thrilled my breast. 



R Scene. 

Another man and I one night, 
Were rambling out in sweet delight. 
Through open field and pleasant wood. 
With no intention to "intrude." 

We wandered up a hill, to where 
We thought to take some wholesome air 
Upon its top there was a house, 
Where all seemed quiet as a mouse. 

Around it there were pailings set, 
And there's a little gate to let 



GREER'S POEMS. 



297 



The neighbors through who want to go 
To get them " mesmerized," you know. 

The people there are clever folks 
Who love their Bible and good jokes ; 
But then thej keep a beast, as full 
Of terror as a bedlam — anything. 

I've always been afraid to call 
To see the people there, at all. 
For if I do I'm sure to feel 
The gafts of ''puppy^^ in my heel. 

'Tis bad enough to hear his din, 
But worse to have a bitten — boot : 
If he were mine I'd hang the dog 
As sure as " roUin' off a log ! " 

Ten furies flame from both his eyes. 
That fill your bosom with surprise ; 
And when he comes you've got to "tree," 
Or else be bitten wofully. 

I carry neither gun or knife 
At any time to save my life, 
But if I happen there again, 
I'll wound that creature if I can. 

We trudged along in happy state. 
Until we came unto the gate. 



298 



GREER'S POEMS. 



And then the fearful beast began 
A " bow-ow-wow," and at us ran. 

I was so scared I did not know 
Which way to look, or where to go ; 
I had a mind the beast to fight, 
And then again thinks I, "he'll bite!" 

Just then I saw a handsome Miss, 
Who'd gone behind the house to — hiss 
The ravenous beast upon us there, 
And try us gentlemen to scare. 

"Hiss! hiss!" says she, with all her might. 
Then like a coward took to flight, 
And through the kitchen quick she flew, 
Nor stopped to bid us "how d'ye do?" 

Nor did she seem at all to care 
If we were eaten bones and — hair ; 
Oh, wretched girl ! to leave us then. 
To be devoured — us gentlemen. 

The beast would snap, and then he'd grin. 
All eager for a bite of — boot ; 
And not a soul came out to help 
Us gentlemen to fight the whelp. 

And such a wild, terrific noise ! 
It beat the giant battle's voice ; 



GREER'S POEMS. 



299 



The beast without, inside the Miss, 

Going through the kitchen, " hiss, hiss, hiss ! 

She tumbled out at t'other door. 
While all within did loudlj roar, 
For chairs were splintered in her track, 
And doors slami-banging at her back. 

She mashed the wood-pile in her train. 
And wildly as a hurricane. 
She flew o'er benches, boards and logs, 
And wakened all the neighbors' dogs. 

Such horrid clamor and uproar! 
I never heard the like before ; 
It made me feel all over queer ; 
I thought my end perhaps was near. 

On through the yard she swiftly leaped, 
And round the corner at us peeped ; 
Her head looked hke a porlc-u-jmie^ 
And, bless me! how her eyes did shine: 

They minded me of two big holes 
Burnt in a blanket, and the coals 
That burnt them in, still sticking there. 
Fanned by the breeze into a glare. 

My comrade darted from my side. 
To hunt a place in which to hide^ 



300 GREEK'S POEMS. 

And left me there to stand or flj, 
Or like a hero fight or die. 

And then I thought I'd Hke to see 
The beast bite her instead of me ; 
Then through the door I hasted in, 
But heard him snapping at my — hoot. 

How scared I felt nobody knows, 
• And none did care, as I suppose; 
I know I was as pale as death. 
And almost dead for want of breath. 

I'd like to know who would not feel 
His blood run cold, his senses reel, 
And trembling seize upon his breast. 
To meet such a voracioas beast. 

An hour or two did pass away, 
And then the Miss began to play, 
(As merry girls are apt to do,) 
And which they're nearly sure to rue : 

She sauntered round in thoughtless mood, 
(Not likely after any good,) 
About the beast, still raving mad. 
And lo 1 he bit her finger bad. 

I pitied her a little, but, 

Thinks I, 'no odds, 'twill soon heal shut;' 



GREER'S POEMS. 



301 



She tied it up, and then advised 
The crowd to all get ''mesmerized:^'' 

So down we sat in cheerful plight 
Around the candle, burning bright. 
And Mr. A. said, with a smile, 
"I'll put you all asleep awhile," 



'? 



He tried his uttermost you see, 
But couldn't ''metamorphose^^ me, 
Although I sat a long, long time. 
And gazed upon his paltry dime. 

That night with fear and bliss was fraught, 
And ne'er by me will be forgot ; 
But happier far, could I have kept 
The di7ne o'er which Clarinda slept! 

'Twas her who got her finger snapped ; 
She didn't sleep but kind o' napped ; 
And all the rest were wide awake; 
And then myself and neighbor Blake, 
Concluded we would make a break. 



Aa 



302 GREER'S POEMS 

Z()e G^ereOration.* 

Mj heart is full! mj bosom swells with more 
Than ordinary feelings of delight, 
To be the witness of a scene so grand, 
Where youth, and age, and beauty, all have met, 
To pay devotion at their Country's shrine. 
What can I say? or how express myself? 
How grasp such overwhelming loveliness ; 
Its merits picture in their proper light F 

'Tis not in finite skill or earthly power, 

To paint the glories of so blest an hour; 

Nor can oni/ Muse, from thought's vast picture-sea, 

Draw hues to paint the scene's sublimity. 

All hail the day that gave Columbia birth 
From dark Oppression to sweet Freedom's light ! 
Ten thousand thousand strains of melody 
Go softly swimming through the sunny air ; 
And seems to burst a hallelujah from the earth, 
And roll triumphantly away to heaven ; 
Day, dearly sacred to the hearts of all 
That live, or shall exist, till time shall end ! 

We breathe, to-day, the "holy atmosphere" 
Of blessed, priceless, blood-bought Liberty. 

* At Millsborough, Pa. July 3d. 1852 



GREER'S POEMS. 



303 



No regal sceptre, stained with heroes' gore, 

Is swajecl by hands tyrannical, across 

The happy region of America ; 

No kingly banner floats athwart our skies. 

As once it waved, in sable horridness. 

From Maine to the Pacific's rock-bound shore ! 

The hand of right the sceptre dashed away^ 

And tore the hell-dyed banner from the skies; 

Eternal Justice bent his mighty bow. 

And twirled his errless arrow keenly through 

The bosom of infernal Despotism, 

That stalked abroad in matchless ugliness 

O'er this fair land of ours. 

Hail, glorious day! 
We deem thee sacred time ; we keep thee such ; 
We celebrate thee as the period, when 
Political redemption to us came ; 
Our history, as a nation, marks no day 
So worthy of remembrance, so sublime. 
Its deeds sent paleness to the gory check 
Of the proud old despotic World, and made 
Him quail : it shook his battle-loving heart, 
And made him think of what had nd'er before 
Entered his mind, that he should now repent. 

These sun-bright hills that tower round me here — 
Illumined by the cloudless noon-day god, 
And Freedom's pure effulgence, — over whose 
High-lifting tops the uncaged eagle soars, 



304 



GllEEK'S POEMS. 



And sweeps his golden pinions 'gainst the skies, 
As free and vigorous as when he perched 
His lofty form among the Stars and Stripes, 
Unrolled before a wonder-stricken world, 
Three quarters of a century ago, — 
Have poured into this leafy sugar-grove 
Vast torrents of exulting beings, proud 
To celebrate the day that shook the world. 

And mutely chained Britannia's prowling Bear 
Fast in his dark, polluted, bloody lair. 
From whence he'd issued with obnoxious breath, 
And swept across our land a storm of death. 

The cannon's mouth has ceased to thunder " War! " 

And hurl its iron messengers of death 

Among the champion ranks of Liberty. 

To-day, from ocean o'er to ocean, rolls 

The boom of cannons and of musketry. 

Peal meeting peal from hill to verdant hill. 

And every sound says "Glory!" 

This blest hour 
Uncounted thousands have together met. 
To blend their feehngs in a jubilee, 
Throughout America. And %ve^ with souls 
E'en full of rapture, 'neath these verdant boughs, 
Sing gladsome praises to Columbia's God ! 
I listen to the thrilling eloquence. 
That flows in charming strains from patriots' tongues. 



GREER'S POEMS, 



305 



Sweet as the music of ^olean harps. 
When wafts the balmy breeze among their chords; 
And as I list, my heart expands with joy, 
And tears, unsmothcrable, flood my eyes. 

Oh! where's the true American whose breast 

Is not with zeal heroic filled to-day ? 

Or where the timid tyrant who would not, 

Before such bright array, shrink back and flee 

To hide his face in some wild mountain cave ? 

My bosom bui^s with Love's exalting flame. 

For those who fought in other days, to save 

America ; redeemed America ! 

They purchased Freedom with their precious lives, 

And with their life-tide fertilized our soil ; 

The liberty they bought we now enjoy ; 

May God preserve it from despotic power ! 

And may our land, our consecrated land, 

Forever be the wand'ring pilgrim's home ; 

The place where persecuted man may find 

An undisturbed repose ^ a land of rest, 

A land of harmony, and peace, and love : 

Although a cloud of despotism now 

Hangs darkling o'er the South — ah! fearful cloud! 

Yet it shall soon, we trust, be blown away ; 

May Freedom ever be as infinite 

As Phoebus' universal light ; and oh ! 

May it, like Phoebus, circle round the earth, 

Embracing all mankind in unity 

Aa2 



306 



GREER'S POEMS, 



And love — all in one blest fraternity. 
May kings and monarchs all be swept away, 
Their power become extinct throughout the earth, 
And every throne be crumbled to the dust; — 

Then shall the hallelujah swell from pole to pole, 
" Thank God for what America has done ! " 

Ten thousand times ten thousand voices roll 

From earth to Heaven the name of Washington ! 



Z(}e IJatf) of Duti). 

The heart beats lightly when we march the way 
That Heaven designs our wand'ring feet to tread : 

The path is straight; and one continual day 
Upon it shines, and lights the traveler's head 
With blessings out of number, such as wed 

His soul to glory — to the world above ; 

His bosom know^s no taunting fear, or dread 

Of future misery or wo ; but love 
To God and man his heart to act alone can move. 

There are no thorns in duty's shining road. 
No snares upon it set to trap the feet; 

And, he who walks it, bears no guilty load, 

To make him weary ; and, though he may meet 



GREER'S POEMS, 



307 



A thousand enemies, resolved to beat 
Him from his course, yet, if he face them bold, 

All Heaven will protect him ; and a sweet 
Communion with his Maker he can hold. 
For such the Saviour in his bosom doth enfold. 

The path of duty leads direct to Heaven, 

So narrow — that we dare not step aside 
To pluck a flower, or we may be driven 

Headlong ; for many, at a single stride, 

To gratify their avarice or pride, 
Have breathed the upas' fatal atmosphere, 

And, in a moment, unexpected, died. 
On either hand temptation lurketh near, 
To win away the feeling, taste, smell, eye, or ear, 

To wander from the path of duty, we 
Expose ourselves to precipices, o'er 

Whose dismal steeps our souls, perchance, may be 
Sent howhng into hell ! there to deplore 
Our folly and our madness evermore. 

All who have fallen to that world of night, 
Fell not from duty's line ; nor fell before 

Their guilt became a mountain, and their sight 
Grew dim by sinning 'gainst the Lord of life and hght. 

The voice of Nature speaks in thunder-strains. 

And tells us — "Of delusion, be aware;" 
If we are led by Satan, sorrows, pains, 



308 



GREER'S POEMS. 



And shame, are ours ; and torment, grief and care 
Come crowding o'er our spirits, and despair 

Gripes greedily our souls. Oh! who would run 
From happiness down to wo, and tear 

Himself right from the cross of Christ, and shun 
The path of duty, in eternal hell to groan ? 

Immortal man! why actest thou so base 

Toward thy Maker? why art thou so blind? 

Is duty's path not pleasant? is disgrace 

Connected with its walks ? canst thou not find 
In it substantial joys, a peace of mind 

That makes thee dream of Heaven ? Is not thy soul 
Destined to live forever, unconfined 

In glory, or beneath the dread control 
Of an Almighty God, in endless pain to roll ? 



R Sinner saoeD from tf)e jaras of BeatO. 

I heard the angry breakers roar 

On Jordan's stormy tide. 
While standing on the gloomy shore, 

I viewed the other side. 

'Twas wild and fearful o'er the stream — 
No friendly face was there ; 



GKEER'S POEMS. 



309 



And lost was hope's celestial beam, 
In darkness and despair. 

I thought that I alone must cross 

The watery wilderness, 
And o'er the hideous surges toss, 

To torment and distress. 

1 called on God my life to spare. 

Nor let me launch away ; 
He in his mercy heard my prayer. 

And thus to me did say: — 

" Come, child of sorrows, to my arms^ 

Thy sins are all forgiven. 
And from the midst of these alarms, 

Thou mayest escape to heaven. 

"Thou didst lebel against me long, 
And would not seek my face, 

But thou forsakest 7wtv thy wrong. 
So I impart my grace. 

" I gave my well beloved Son 

To die on Calvary: 
Hast thou not heard his dying groan ? 

He spilt his blood for thee ! 

" That blood hath washed thy guilt away, 
And cleansed thy filthy heart; 



310 



GREER'S POEMS. 



No more in paths forbidden stray, 
No more from me depart." 

The waves were calmed ; the howling gale 

Had in a moment died ; 
And then methought I'd like to sail 

Across the rolling tide. 

Within my soul, divinely bright, 

Was glory shed abroad, — 
Around me shone a heavenly light — 

I leaped and praised my God. 

I'll praise his holy name until 

I pass from earth away. 
And then on Zion's golden hill, 

I'll dwell with him for aye ! 



S;0ere'8 Ocautq eoeri)U)Ocre. 

There's beauty, there's beauty all over the earth — 
The river, the ocean, the field, and the grove, — 

Though dressed in such splendor, what is it all worth, 
To those in whose bosoms throbs no pulse of love ? 

There's beauty in morning, noon, evening and night, 
The rivulets, flowers, the trees and the sky : 



GREER'S POEMS. 311 

All nature is beautifnl — full of delight, 

But there's nothing more lovely than woman's bright 
eye. 



Song of tOe ^rfbeoroom. 

To a maiden beloved, to-day, 

My heart and my hand I have given ; 
With her it is heaven to stay, 

From her it were hell to be riven. 

We are bound with a chain — not of brass; 

We have promised — to part not to-morrow ; 
We have loved, that life's season may pass 

In pleasure — not weeping and sorrow. 

Our pleasure has only begun, 

Since this is the day we were married: 
And deeper we'll blend into one, 

As down to the grave we are hurried. 



312 



GREER'S POEMS. 

Z(}^ (Camp ailBetinq.* 

What means this mighty mass of human life 
Crowding into thj shady wilds, 0, grove! 
O'er which the burning sun in zenith hangs, 
With yellow vapors wreathed anon; and veiled 
At times in clouds dark-floating on the skies? 
Methinks I hear a voice distinctly say: 
^^ TJiey come to ivorsMi? Q-odP^ Already — hark! 
Is that a band of angels in the air. 
On lutes of gold concerting Zion's song? 
Has heaven op'd its gates and sent a choir 
Of harpers down from near the glowing throne 
To chant a song of glory in these woods ? 
No — yonder are the choristers around 
The pulpit grouped, pouring their hearts — 
Though many — as it were but one, right up 
To God ! their faces look, methinks, almost 
As bright and beautiful as angels' are. 

The atmosphere is full of charming sounds, 
And full of living loveliness, the grove. 
Hark, hark! ye who afar-off stand or stray, 
Come in to where this melody awakes. 
And hear the choir of Israel chant a song, 
'Devotional, to the eternal God,' 

* Cookstowu and Belivernon camji meeting, Sept. 2(>. 1852. 



GREER'S POEMS. 



313 



In praise of whom this group of tents is pitched 

In this deep wilderness of towering oaks. 

The lisping babe within its mother's arms, 

Seems touched with rapture ; and the prattling child 

Has something beaming in its dancing eye, 

That speaks of jojs cherubic o'er the skies; 

The youth, with rosy cheeks and golden locks 

Twined into glossy ringlets by the breeze 

That whispers through this Paradisial grove. 

Treads softly down the aisle with buoyant heart 

And looks of exultation; he whose brow 

Health's picture is, and in whose agile frame 

The fulness of manhood appears, along 

The far-extending avenues, o'erarched 

"With gently quivering verdure, comes to hear, 

In fond entrancement, this sweet music more: 

Ah! there he comes, the storm-bleached veteran! 
His palsied figure moves with tottering pace, 
Bending beneath his "three-score years and ten." 
Old man, thy head has blossomed for the tomb; 
The Reaper soon will come and cut thee down. 
Thou treadest on the very verge of death. 
Ere long to step into eternity, 
And witness all its dread realities : 
We all are marching down with thee to death. 
Great, shocking truth! how faintly realized, 
That all this vast assembly soon will pass 
Like mountain mist before the blast away ! 

Bb 



314 GREER'S POEMS. 

n[ntegritr)===fl fnirst. 

Ah ! sooner let the twinkhng stars 
Forsake their homes on high, 

And with the most terific jars, 
Go thundering through the sky: 

Yea, sooner let the blazing sun 
Be blotted from my view, 

No more his mighty course to run, 
Through yonder arch of blue : 

Yea, sooner let the sea forget 
To roll her tides to shore ; 

This earthly ball to rain fall. 
Nor man be heard of more : 

Yea, sooner let this body sink, 

And moulder into dust. 
Than I would for a moment think 

I'd e'er betray my trust. 

And those who feel disposed may still 
Upon me palm their lies ; 

But I'll maintain my trust — I will, 
Till every button flies! 



GREER'S POEMS. 

SOc Jleformer. 

Now far jwell sin ! I give you o'er, 
To run your giddy rounds no more, 
For, if I longer with you dwell, 
I risk my soul to endless hell. 

God's spirit long has tried to win 
My wandering feet from paths of sin ; 
So here I yield my contrite heart. 
And for his kingdom make a start. 

Are not some angels hither come 
To bear the joyful tidings home. 
That I was lost, but now am found, 
And for the courts of glory bound ? 

I wait to hear that "still, small voice," 
That shaU inspire me to rejoice ; 
Thy love ! — withhold it not, my Lord ; 
But speak it now — the pardoning word ! 

I supplicate a throne of grace ; 
In deep contrition seek thy face ; 
Oh, let m.y pleadings reach thine ear, 
That thou in mercy may est appear! 

Great God! redeem my captive soul, 
And from my breast this burthen roll, 



315 



316 GREER'S POEMS. 

That I may rise — from sin set free, 
And pour a song of praise to thee. 

So here's my heart ; receive it, God, 
And wash it in the Saviour's blood ; 
'Tis black with guilt and steeped in wo. 
But thou canst make it white as snow. 



Doctor 3- 



I know a man not far away, 

But will not tell his name, 
Who has established in his day. 

An almost "deathless fame;" 
So thinks the man himself, you know. 
But other's don't believe it, though. 

He is as full of windy talk 

As dogs are full of hair. 
And shows the people by his walk. 

For them he doesn't care; 
But hear his neighbors speak of him, 
They say he is a perfect whim. 

He makes pretensions, by the by. 
To be a Doctor, too; 

But those who take his "drugs" must die,- 
Now this is strictly true : 



GREER'S I'OEMS. 



317 



If ever he by chance would cure, 

His charge would make the rich man poor. 

His legs are nerved at any time, 

To run with all his speed, 
If there's a chance to make a dime, 

As though he stood in need; 
But then in need he doesn''t stand. 
Because he has a patch of land. 

He is possessed of tricksome cunny. 

That's very seldom caught; 
And he has paid with others' money 

For his poor hilly lot. 
I don't suppose he ever kills, 
Except when dealing out his pills. 

Sometimes he makes a mighty blow 

At subjects of debate. 
To make the people think, you know, 

He is somebody great; 
But people seldom notice take 
Of swells as he is wont to make. 

Great little man, of vast conceit ! 

He he Ids his head aloft. 
That's five feet four above his feet, 

And as a pumpkin soft — 
So soft, indeed, he lost his hair, 
And now his calabash is bare. 

Bb2 



318 



GREER'S POEMS. 

I've seen a thing so tightly stuffed 

With wind it had to " bust," 
And so with self-esteem he's puffed, 

To soon explode he must: 
Then, what a blast of wind there'll be, 
When all that's in him is set free ! 

He justly ranks among the things 
That make more noise than talk, — 

I'll speak no names — but they have wings, 
And waddle when they walk ; 

And when he gets into a crowd. 

Like theirs his noise is long and loud. 

He never liked to work, at best — 
" 'Tis stooping quite too low ;" 

And always wears his very best. 
Wherever he may go : 

You'd think it wonderful, indeed. 

To see the creature take his " feed." 

On Mongaluna's rolling tide 

He keeps a little ferry ; 
And lives along its verdant side, 

As singing lark as merry : 
He takes somebody o'er each day. 
And always laughs to get his pay. 

However he is not so bad 
In every shape and feature, 



GREER'S POEMS. 

For he took pity on a lad, 

They call an " urchin teacher," 
And took him in with him to board, 
Which did the richest joys afford. 

This Pedagogue is half a man. 

Perhaps, a little more. 
And does the very best he can. 

To show the world he's more ; 
But people all can plainly see 
He's not what he would like to be. 

He's slender, tall, and just as straight 

As any filthy weed, 
And walks with most astounding gait, 

To where he gets his feed; 
And, when he feels in proper mood. 
Can waste an awful sight of food. 

Some people say he loves the " dears,^^ 

But this is not the case, 
For he has always met their sneers 

Whene'er he met their face: — 
A bachelor's will be his lot, 
Unless by chance he soon is caught. 

He has a head of fearful size. 

And porcupinish hair. 
And too enormous rolling eyes 

With which he's apt to stare 



319 



320 



GREEK'S POEMS 

At every thing that by him passes, 
Especially the handsome lasses. 

His legs are like unto a rail, 
And straight as a gun barrel. 

And never yet were known to fail 
To run, when in a quarrel: 

And he has two oblongish feet, 

The bulk of which is seldom beat. 

He, too, has got a "deathless fame" 
For making doggerel rhyme ; 

But, ah ! I fear his mind's too lame 
To touch the " true sublime." 

I'll have to quit, for reason why. 

The Pedagogue is sitting by. 



3lemcm6er tf)c ^^aptioe. 

Remember the captive ! whoever ye are. 
That can pour up your voices to heaven in prayer: 
Unfortunate creature ! how long must you dwell 
In the merciless torments of a physical hdl? 

Remember the captive, who bleeds in his chains, 
'Neath the lordling who scoffs at his groans and his pains, 
As to labor unceasing he drives him along. 
With a lash in his hand and a curse on his tongue. 



GREER'S POEMS. 



321 



Remember the captive, whose skies are all gloom, 
And no place as welcome to him as the tomb. 
Unless that his instinct may lead him to know 
There's a heaven above him to which he may go. 

Remember the captive, when after him bounds 
A gang of his fellows, more brutal than hounds, 
To carry him back to the fierce burning South, 
With a yoke on his neck and a gag in his mouth ! 

Remember the captive, whose pleasures are crushed ; 
Whose pleadings for freedom forever are hushed ; 
Whose heart is a victim to hopeless despair, 
And who dare not e'en whisper to heaven a prayer. 

Remember the captive, whom tyrants have torn 
From home and companions, with pitiless scorn. 
And o'er the dark billows have forced him away. 
To live in dishonor and die in dismay. 

Remember the captive, who bursts from his chains. 
And flies from the region where tyranny reigns, 
To find — from his captors, whose hands are imbrued 
In the blood of their fellows — a peaceful abode. 

Remember the captive, — a matron or sire, — 
Who sinks on a pallet of straw to expire. 
With none to direct them or point them to God, 
Or tell them there's pardon in Jesus' blood. 



322 



GREER'S POEMS. 



Remember the captive, when death o'er him steals, 
And the blood in his bosom forever congeals ; 
Unenlightened he launches away o'er the deep, 
Nor knows if to heaven or hell is his leap ! 

Oh, ye who have power ! je tyrants and knaves ! 
Who chain down your fellows as subjects and slaves. 
Say, how can ye hope for the world of delight, 
Since you have created a hell by your might ? 

Has Heaven no thunders ? has Justice no sword '.'' 
And shall not the captive, to freedom restored. 
Yet live on a level with those by whose hands 
He long has been thralled in tyrannical bands ? 

Has Mercy ^^ balm for the heart-broken slave, 
Whose life is perdition while out of the grave ? 
The Gospel no voice that shall reach them, ere long, 
And raise from dishonor the down-trodden throng? 

Oh, yes ! there's a season fast rolling around. 
When the Gospel shall reach them with hallowed sound ; 
And their song of redemption triumphantly rise. 
Till it echo o'er Nature and roll to the skies. 

I trust I shall hear it ; — I hope that my voice 
Shall assist the poor African then to rejoice ; — 
Oh, Saviour, descend on thy pinions of love, 
And waft us all home to thy kingdom above ! 



GREBR»S POEMS, 



. 323 



M\) OTatioc IfTCttCC. 

I sit again upon the grassy side 

Of my dear native streamlet, where so oft 
I used to watch the gently flowing tide, 

And list enchanted to its murmurs soft. 

And here's the sacred spot that gave me birth — 
The very trees I used to play beneath ; 

Oh, dearest place to me upon the earth — 
The place where first I drew my infant breath ! 

I now remember, how, in early years, 

These gently rising slopes I gambolled o'er ; 

What lovely melody then charmed my ears, 
From zephyrs' whispers to the tempest's roar ! 

Oh ! could I live again those blessed hours. 
This strange temerity I would not feel, 

For now my spirit from the monster cowers, 
Who soon these lips forevermore will seal. 



324 



GREER'S POEMS. 

3 fooe to sec. 

I love to see 
A tender child kneel down to pray 

Beside its mother's knee, 
And clasp its little hands and say, 
" Father, who lives in Heaven above, 
Come down and fill my heart with love ; 
Nor let my feet be led astray 
By Satan, from the narrow way, 
But watch and guide me every day, 
That I thy faithful child may be, 

Nor sin against thy grace ; 
Then in a bright eternity, 
I'll meet thy smiling face." 



(^0 Br. 3. 

Oh! Dr. Z., it seems to me 

That you are '' unco hliu^t''^ sir. 
To pour outright your fiery spite, 

On one you cannot hurt, sir ; 
Do you suppose your spleenish blows. 

In any wise can harm him ; 
Or that your heart can frame a dart, 

Whose point can e'er alarm him ? 



GREER'S POEBIS. 

You might have known to let alone 

Your neighbor you. had better: 
His " chainless mind" you ne'er can bind, 

With your sarcastic fetter : 
I see vou fain would for*2;e a chain, 

To thrall him in disgrace, sir ; 
But man there's none, beneath the sun, 

That he's ashamed to face, sir. 

A man of sense would not commence 

To scandalize his nei2;hbor 
As jou have done; — Ah, heartless one ! — 

What means jour crazy caper ? 
Your mouth awry, and skanting eye, 

(Of fiendish marks posscsst, sir,) 
And, too, your tongue w^ith slander strung, 

I bitterlv detest, sir. 

Of rank or birth, or innate worth, 

I do not brag a bit", sir; 
But yet I know, and here can show, 

I have a Uttle wit, sir: 
A wit that spurns your surly turns. 

With triumphing ambition : 
A wit that shuns the spiteful ones, 

Who own your disposition. 

If you arc wise take my advice, 
And hold your slander in, sir, 



325 



326 



GREER'S POEMS. 



Or you may rue that ever you, 
Such gaming did begin, sir; 

I will defend a bosom friend, 
Or battle an offender, 

Not with the sword or ranting word. 
But the feather of a gander. 

Since you have let your ire get 

Beyond the moral laws, sir. 
And strike at me so viciously, 

Without a single cause, sir, 
I'll use the right I have to fight^ 

By taking my own part, sir. 
And boldly show to friend and foe. 

That mine's no coward's heart, sir. 



Sttriil). 

Alas ! she died ! My lovely Sarah left 
My bosom as the morning sun arose ; 

I mourn that I am thus so soon bereft. 

But she has soared to realms of blest repose. 



GREER'S POEMS. 

beauties of Jlature. 

All Nature wears a smile of living love, 
From ignes fatui to stars above ; 
From crystal drops that gem Viola's face, 
Up to the sun that lights infinite space ; 
From grains of sand up to the mighty mount, 
From ocean to the softly purling fount; 
From trees that cap the lofty hills around, 
Down to the verdure scattered o'er the ground 
E'en man, the vilest worm of earth, 'tis true. 
Is favored with some love and beauty, too ; 
But woman is the loveliest of all 
That lives or moves upon this rolling ball. 



327 



C one. 



0, for the power such mighty strains to roll, 
As issued from immortal Homer's soul, 
I'd chant my theme in eloquence sublime, 
And pour its echoes through all coming time ; 
Or 5 had I Virgil's harp or Ossian's lyre, 
My bosom kindled with celestial fire ; — 
Then, like Apollo, would I sound my song. 
In notes melodious, to creation's throng! 



328 



GREER'S POEMS. 



My theme is love! the noblest one that's sung 
By finite man or hymned by angel's tongue : 
It was the chief delight of bards of old, 
To sing its beauties on their harps of gold; 
In every country, nation, age and clime, 
It has — and shall be voiced in strains sublime. 
By those \YhosG hearts are lighted by its fire, 
And feel its made burnino;s woo them higher. 

The great Creator, throned all else above, 
Creation's Builder ! source of light and love ! 
O'er Eden's fields, where infant nature lay 
Outstretched in beauties of unclouded day. 
Poured from his presence an unbounded stream 
Of glory, even dimning Phoebus' beams; 
And there with happy man behold him move 
And warm his heart with everlasting Love! 

What is it makes our verdant earth still yet 
Besemble ancient Eden ? Every heart not set 
On ruin's smouldering heap; not blasted, riven 
By some fierce thunder-bolt of frowning heaven, 
Not given o'er from genial tenderness 
To icy coldness, stony callousness ; 
Gives back the answer as if from above, 
So rife with joy and exultation — '* Love ! " 

What makes the maiden to her suitor clins 
With such unyielding grasp ? What gives a wing 



GREER'S POEMS. 329 

Of rapture to the Christian's soul, when Death 
Is grapphng at his heart, and steals his breath? 
What causes that fond mother's Hps to smile 
When bending o'er her tender infant, Avhile 
It sleeps so sweetly ? What, that harmless dove 
To mourn so solemnly ? 'Tis Love ! 'Tis Love ! 

What shines the clouds of sorrow from the soul 
As morning's rays the shades of darkness roll 
From off earth's bosom ? What, that brings a tear 
Unbidden from the eye, when round the bier 
Of some departed friend we stand ? What sends 
Our spirits, buoyant as the lark, to blend 
With those from whom our fate has been to rove ? 
That principle of bliss celestial — Love ! 

What lifts the penitential sinner up 
From grief and deep distress, and fills his cup 
With streams of gladness ? what that rolls away 
His load of guilt, and pours eternal day 
Right on his view, v/ith all its sacred charms, 
And folds him softly in his Saviour's arms ? 
What brought our great Redeemer from above, 
To save a fallen world from hell, but Love ? 



cc2 



>oO (iltEEK'S POEMS. 

Time ! thou most mysterious ocean, 
Ever sweeping on thy waves ; 

Silent — yet with strong commotion 
Surging millions to their graves ! 

Thou hast been for ages rolling 
Like the restless briny deep ; 

None but God thy might controlling; 
He alone has spanned thy sweep. 

O'er the earth, like mystic waters, 
Thou hast poured thy current wide, 

Washing Adam's sons and daughters 
'Neath the madness of thy tide 1 

Where is Eden ? WHiere the power 
Of the world before the flood ? 

Thou hast whelmed, as in an hour, 
All who then earth's bosom trod. 

Where is all the pomp and glorj^. 

Once displayed in Greece and Rome ? 

Though they live in song and story, 
Thou hast drowned them in the tomb. 

Thrones have fallen, temples crumbled, 
As thy billows passed them by ; 



WHBER'kS poejis. 



331 



Where's the mighty from them tumbled ? 
In forgetfulness they lie ! 

See ! the thousands round us falling, 
Sinking neath the sullen flood, 

While the Gospel's voice is calling, 
"Turn, ye rebels, unto God." 

Time ! thy waves will soon roll over 
This enslaved, desponding heart; 

But thy billows ne'er can cover 
My immortal, deathless part! 



33rau)nso(fre at 8un=set. 

Unbounded grandeur on my vision opes ! 

My soul involuntarily seems to leap 
On airy pinions o'er the emerald slopes 

And oak-crowned hills ; and skim along the deep, 

Green vale, where Monongalia's waters sweep 
In majesty eternal. Oh, the skies ! 

How beautifully blue. Along them creep 
The fleecy cloudlets, fringed with golden dies, 
Floating away to where yon mountain towers rise ! 

Dread Mountain ! nature's everlasting throne ! 
Bpunding my vision with thine azure breast. 



632 GREER'S POEMS. 

Far stretching around the eastern horizon ; 
Still in thy primal habit thou art drest, 
And ne'er have been disgraced by regal guest 

Sceptred with tyranny. The sun that now 
Is pillowing his head upon the West, 

Yet j0ings his farewell beams along thy brow, 
To which thou seemest in thy majesty to bow. 

The scene ! the scene ! Where'er I turn my gaze, 

A world of glory bursts upon my sight: 
The j&elds are speckled o'er with herds, that graze 
Upon the living verdure ; and the flight 
Of thousand minstrels singing in the bright 
Pure atmosphere from hill to hill ; and flowers 

On trees and meadows, bathed in yellow light; 
And children sporting through the groves and 
bowers , — 
All — all declare that Spring is fraught with match- 
less powers. 

I feel myself o'erwhelmed with this array 

Of scenery magnificent, before 
My vision spread : the smiles of closing day, 

Jjike a vast sea of amber on it pour, — 

A sea without an island or a shore ! 
But, of this scene, still yet a glorious part 

Strikes me with rapture as I glance it o'er : 
What lofty structures of the giant Art ! 
How rife with affluence, my lovely Country's mart ! 



GREER'S POEMS 



333 



Crowded against 3^on jasper-colored hill, 
And on the river's margin, at its base, 

A mighty mass of houses gleams in still 
Yet awful grandeur, canopied by space, 
And pillowed in the beautiful embrace 

Of sun-lit hills. A league from it I stand 
Upon a high and solitary place* 

That seems to lift me near the clouds. My hand 
Shrinks from the task to paint a spectacle so grand I 

And yet, with all its grandeur, pomp and show, 
Its tenants are but creatures of a day ; 

Erelong, the hoary monarch, Time, will throw 
His scythe athwart it, and in ruins lay 
Its strongest structures — sternly sweep away 

Its wealth and wisdom; for, where'er he treads, 
He leaves the gloomy impress of decay : 

He makes the earth his rendezvous; nor dreads 
Her thrones to crumble, nor to bow^ her royal heads. 

Voluptuous palaces I the night will soon 
Envelope you, for darkness now descends ; 

But there I above the mountains rolls the moon 
In all her virgin loveliness ; and blends 
Her sea of smiles with yonder sun that bends 

His burning cheek behind the jiills : — To dwell 
'Mid such illimitable splendors, tends 

* An elevated piece of land, on the premises of Mr. William 
Hai'rison, three miles west of Brownsville. Pa. 



334 



GREER'S POEMS. 



To elevate our pilgrim hearts, and swell 
Our thoughts to Heaven; but, sweet scene," Farewell 
Farewell ! 



TJerscs, 

WRITTEN ON A BLANK LEAF IN A " VOLUME OP ORIGINAL 

SERMONS." 

Oh, Volume fair ! I love to read thy shining pages o'er, 
And while upon their truths I feed, my bosom pants 

for more: 
Nor other source can yield a balm like that of gospel 

truth, — 
It can the aged spirit calm, and cheer the heart of youth. 

Eternal Love! illume my soul with beams of light 

divine, 
And o'er its empire take control, and there forever 

shine. 
I do not ask for length of days, for honor or applause, 
But for a heart my God to praise, and tongue to plead 

his cause. 

Go, blessed book! and teach mankind the road that 

leads to God ; 
Go, fertilize the barren mind, and spread thy light 

abroad 



GREER'S POEMS. 335 

And oh, may those who read thy Hnes, have all their 

sins forgiven. 
That where the Sun of glory shines, their souls may 

rest — in Heaven ! 



( ( 



3lcmemOer me===31t. 3. C' 



Though far away from thee I stray, 

O'er land or roaring sea, 
Thy kind request will haunt my breast, 

And cause me to — 7'e7nem'ber thee! 



The roll of time or change of clime, 

Can never change my heart ; 
But true to thee I'll ever be, 

Though we be sundered far apart. 

Though others claim affection's flamOy 

Though others may caress. 
My memory will cling to thee, 

Who art all love and loveliness. 

I'll leave thee soon— pray, grant this boon- 

The lover's sweet good bye ; 
And then we'll part with buoyant heart, 

And cease to sorrow and to sigh. 



336 tillEEU'S POEMS. 



TJcrses, 

WRITTEN ON A BLANK LEAF IN A VOLUME OF " YOUNG'S 
NIGHT THOUGHTS." 

"Night Thoughts" — effusions of a Young, 
Than whom scarce greater ever sung ! 
Heaven, earth and hell, in thought embraced. 
He, in this little volume, placed. 

Immortal bard! minstrel of night! 
Thj song is rich with noonday light : 
No words have I to swell thy fame, 
Or spread the brilliance of thy name. 

The critic's searching eye can see 
Nor fault nor shade of night in thee ; 
For thou hast left all dross behind, 
And given us gold unmixt, refined. 

Thy harp shall roll its notes sublime 

On every shore, in every clime ; 

And millions yet unborn shall read 

Thy great " Complaint" with joyous greed. 

I love thy theme — I love to hear 
Thy numbers rolling deep and clear ; — 
I, in thy " Consolation," find 
A panacea for my mind. 



GliEEK'S POEMS. 



337 



£0 



This tribute I to thee bestow, 

Whom long I've loved with fervent heart; 
But still it grieves mj soul to know 
That we must part. 

"When thou art far away, oh, then. 

Remember me ! When life is o'er. 
In heaven we shall meet again, 
To part no more. 



Hope seems to guide us o'er the main 

Of life's tempestuous sea ; 
And leads us on that we may gain 

A blest eternity : 
Though we are tossed and tempest driven, 
It clings unyieldingly to heaven. 



T>d 



338 



GREER'S POEMS. 



flutuniii. 



Mysterious soason ! now, 
Around us from the stormy north, 
With hoary locks and frowning brow, 
Thou'rt steaUng forth. 

The fields are turning sere. 
And wear a pale and sickly hue ; 
And sadly falls upon my ear 
Summer's adieu. 

All nature feels thy power, 
And droops before thy chilling breath 
The stately tree and tender flower 
Seem nipped by death. 

This is a solemn time, 
For Summer's genial days are o'er : 
The robin's song and mimic's chime. 
Are heard no more. 

And we will soon be gone ; 
The stealthy autumn of decay 
Will wither all ; — and every one 
Shall pass away. 



GREER'S POEMS. 

TUOcre is pfeasure fourib. 

Where is pleasure found ? 

In the depths of solitude, 
Where there comes no clashing sound ; 

In the leaf enameled wood : 
There at evening let me stray 
From the jarring throng away — 
From the scenes of strife and care. 
Sorrow, trouble, and despair; 
For the world is full of these : 
Only here I feel at ease. 
Man may roam in search of rest, 
O'er the ocean's hquid breast, 
Where the boundless waters blue 
Hide the distant land from view ; 
But the fears of vrave and wind, 
Cast a darkness o'er his mind ; 
Pleasure from his bosom flees 
While he rides the stormy seas. 
Every surge's bubbling wreath— 

Every hissing wave. 
Bears the spectral form of death ; 

Only hides a hrmy grave. 

He may seek it in the crowd, 
'Mong the haughty and the proud, 
Or, where Bacchus' tempting bowl 
Glows with poison for the soul : 



339 



340 GREER'S POEMS. 

To the field of battle gorj, 

He may haste, and claim its glory, 

But, alas ! it is not there, 

Where the howlings of despair. 

Clashing steel and slaughter's terror, 

Only fill the heart with horror. 

" Where," you ask, " then, is it found? " 

When the family gathers round 

On the sacred hearth; or when. 

Fearless of our fellow-men, 

We disrobe ourselves of care, 

And to God in fervent prayer 

Lift our hearts, and feel his love 

Flowing from the w^orld above : 

Pleasure, then, of priceless worth 

Makes a heaven of our earth. 



JTttrteb J^oreoer. 

We are parted now forever, 

Though I oft may see thy face ;- 

Such deceit as thine must sever 
Every heart from thy embrace. 

As a friend I once believed thee. 
Honest-hearted, blameless, true ; 

But, alas! thou hast deceived me, 
So, false one, adieu, adieu ! 



GREER'S POEMS 



341 



3 fooe tfje Jliouiitaiu's ruflgeb steeps. 

The vales, hills, groves and murmuring streams, I love, 
The vernal songsters and the blushing flowers ; 
The whispering breeze, and mourning of the dove, 
The warming sun, the clouds, and pleasant showers. 

I love to climb the mountain's rugged steeps, 
And stray among its wilderness of pines, 
Or muse upon the rocks where softly weep 
Eternal tears through blossom-sprinkled vines. 

When spring, progenitor of joys terrene. 
And resurrectioner of nature dead. 
Visits its regions wild, no lovelier scene 
Before the human vision God hath spread. 



Dd2 



MAN. 



Man is a wandering pilgrim in a world of lights and shadows, 
clouds, and calms, and storms ! 

The Earth is his mother, and worms are his companions. He 
is like a transitory meteor that rises from the dark, horizen of Na- 
ture, hurries along for a moment through the skies of Time, then 
darts off into Eternity, and disappears forever from the cold and 
careless gaze of those that after him wing their speedy flight. 
Heaven throws open its pearly gates, through which he can view 
the splendors of its illimitable field of gold and amaranth, its val- 
leys washed with crystal streams, and hills with fadeless flowers 
Avreathed, and pours in rich profusion from its thrones and temples 
and altars, a universe of charms, to win him up to the scenes of 
everlasting beatification. Earth flings out her borrowed treasures, 
wonders and mysteries, to his eager grasp, to which he fain would 
cast eternal anchor, although he knows they will wither at his 
touch and die in a day, while the boon of immortal life and the 
harps of Heaven hang above him and within his reach. Hell, with 
all its living wrecks, and ghosts, and brazen walls, and thousand 
times ten thousand hissing surges rolling o'er its burning wastes, 
beneath him darkly yawns ; yet, from out its sooty caverns swell 
the heavy thunders of the damned that tell him not to enter. He 
springs from dust into ephemeral existence, then passes away to 
die or live forever. 

Man is an alien from God, a mystery to angels, a wonder to his 
brethren, and a stranger to himself. He is born in sorrow, agony 
and tears — goes laughing and mourning through a life of danger 
and uncertainty — and expires at last on the shore of Oblivion's 
sea, into which he is borne and buried forever beneath its waves. 
. Once he was beautiful and happy as the angels of glory, and throned 

[ 343 1 



344 



GKEER'S POEMS. 



1^ 



in the image of his God ; but how it freezes up the current of our 
heart while we think of his disobedience to the commands of his 
Maker beneath the Upas of the Garden, that has poisoned and lep- 
rosed the innumerable multitudes of his offspring! That fatal 
action cursed the world, and instantaneous palsy seized the realms 
of earth. It was there and then that Immortality shook hands 
with Death, and man became his trembling victim ! 

It may be said, that his pathway now leads over cold barren 
mountains, and through the shades of pestilential vales ; where 
once it was paved with gold and emerald right up from Eden to the 
throne of God. At almost every step his vagrant feet are goaded 
with thorns : his path is fringed with scorpions and adders ; the 
fierce blasts of winter shriek about him : and the leaden sound of 
mourning falls upon his ear. Yesterday we saw him crowned 
as a king and bearing a sceptre of royalty in his hand, and to-day 
we behold him dismantled of his power and begging for crimibs at 
the foot of the throne. Wherever he wanders through the world 
he is exposed to snares of Satan, and to the thick-fly hig arrows of 
Death. 

Man is a being of wonderful construction. Sometimes he falls 
from the zenith of his glory and greatness, and seems to be dashed to 
pieces on the rocks of destruction ; and then arises from the ruins 
of himself wrecked, apparently endowed with redoubled energy. 
What a multiform combination of attributes are displayed in his 
nature ! How mighty is the genius of his mind ! How lofty are 
the aspirations of his heart ; and how nearly he assumes a super- 
human power! He performs the most difficult operations with 
dexterity, and even struggles to accomplish impossibilities with a 
hope of success. Nature has laid but few insurmountable obstruc- 
tions in his course. 

He mows down forests seemingly with nearly the same ease and 
rapidity as he shaves from the fields their fleeces of grass; and, 
r with his sinewy hands, he drags from the hoary mountains their 
iron bowels, and forges them into floating monsters to trip from one 
hemisphere to another. Behold him! how he rides like a gull 
upon the billow, and dashes among the ridges of the ocean ! To 
follow him in the majesty of his power and the swiftness of his pro- 



GREEK'S POEMS, 



345 



gress, he seems to step like a giant from island to island and from 
shore to shore, until he finds but little hindrance in circumambu- 
lating the globe, gathering its treasures in his hands and bringing 
them home to adorn his parlor, with the same agility that Hercules 
collected the flocks of Geryon, and emptied them into the folds of 
Eurystheus. By his genius he has constructed a vessel, in which 
he can mount up through the skies, and drive its silken prow along 
the waveless sea of ether, 

"As if it were his proud resolve to see, 
Betwixt liim and dim eartli, tlie zig-zag lightnings flee!" 

" He sends down the iron arms of an engine, which, with harpy 
fangs, tear out the heart-strings of mother earth, and suck up her 
waters in their urns of reft rocks, with the tongue of a vampire and 
the hiss of a dragon !" 

He has learned to tame the warring elements, and bottle up their 
furies; to mount the mettled steeds of modern art, that ho has 
bridled with lightning, saddled with thunder, and shod with velo- 
city, and ride races with his own thoughts across a continent; mak- 
ing the iron-ribbed mountains tremble and the far-stretching valleys 
reverberate, as over them he drives with fearful rapidity! And 
when he is safely and quietly palaced on a distant shore, the breath 
of his steeds may be traced as an serial pathway back almost to 
the point from whence he started. He is bonie across the globe 
with a velocity resembling that of a Comet, that thunders over the 
plains of space, while thought sweeps after on the wings of light- 
ning, and yet lags behind in the chase, and loses itself in the starry 
wilderness of immensity ! By means of an artificial instrument 
he can transport his vision till it approaches within a step of the 
planet Saturn, that " walks his far-sweeping rounds " through clus- 
tering hosts of worlds, and look upon his beautiful figure adorned 
with a girdle of eternal fire; or dwell beneath the tranquil sky of Jupi- 
ter, and watch his seven moons revolving around his dazzling sphere- 
He can stand at the foot of the Alps, and bid the snaky lightning 
that plays around their summit descend and gently coil in the palm 
of his hand; can call it down from its native home among the black 
battalions of the storm, and send it racing around the world with 



346 



GREER'S POEMS. 



the silence and speed of thought. While he stands on the western 
shore of the Atlantic, he can make it subserve the purpose of a 
tongue, and hold a coloquy with his brother on the eastern coast of 
the Pacific. Beholding the gigantic march of his intellect, we yet 
expect to see him standing in the centre of America and holding 
confabulation with the inhabitants of Iceland, Asia Minor, or 
Pekin; or mounting, as it were on the %\'ings of an eagle, and soar- 
ing to the distant bounds of earth in a day. 

Yet, with all man's greatness, pride and power, we sometimes 
see him garbed in mourning, and spilling his tears over his own 
errors, or the wrongs and misfortunes of others. One moment his 
soul is lifted into sunshine and joy as if by the wings of magic, and 
the next some wandering thought brings home to his mind the 
recollection of a duty neglected, and it falls with more than the 
speed it ascended; while the demon, remorse, drives his gashing 
ploughshare through its soil, and despair around it flings his mid- 
night mantle. The angry tooth of affliction pierces his vitals ; he 
droops his stately head, utters a hollow groan, grapples a moment 
with death, who has come to chase the transient summer of life 
from his bosom and there stamp the chill of eternal winter — and 
dies ! What is he when dead 1 A mindless lump of clay — a ban- 
quetting-house for worms. What was he when living 1 A being 
created "a little lower than the angels" — ^possessing a soul that 
has outlived its crumbling tabernacle — and is destined to survive 
" the wreck of matter and the crash of worlds !" Where has it gone ? 
Ask of the gale that sung his requiem, or of the winds that moan 
through the forests or fan the mountain's marble brow: question 
the panting eagle that has perched himself upon the frowning cliff 
to rest his pinions after returning from his voyage to the sun ; or, 
inquire of the sun himself, or of the golden stars that gem the 
crown of night : ask of the murmuring streams that sweep along the 
deep-dug channels of earth, or of the ocean that rolls her eternal 
bass to the bending heavens: interrogate the smiling morn, the 
blushing noon, or the sober eve as she droops her swarthy cheek 
behind the western hills : — and echo comes laboring home to your 
ears with the dolorous intelligence, " gone !" Earth and its can- 
opy could not contain it. Let vision trace it to its entrance through 



GREEK'S POEMS, 



347 



the gates of eternity, and imagination will come crouching back, 
hurthened with the appalling information, that it is either saved in 
heaven or damned in hell ! Nature, revelation, and experience, have 
all heaved this glaring truth, mighty as the Chimborazian throne, 
before the eyes of the world, that death will shortly gather us all 
in his arms and carry us up to the judgment-bar, and yet we strain 
to overlook the fact, and dream we are immortal. Evciy wave of 
time bcai-s some victim into the land of spirits: as it sweeps by ns, 
a voice louder than the trumpet of Triton speaking from the bil- 
\ovrs of the stormy ocean, entreats us in the language of mercy, to 
disembrace the phantoms of earth, and lay hold on the promise of 
eternal life. 

The bosom of man : — But we scarce dare enter that discordant 
realm to analyze its mysterious elements, without recoiling from its 
approach, as from the burst of a thousand thunders ! How it looks 
like a burning chaos, wrecked, and tossed, and surging, as though 
an earthquake were throbbing in its centre, and its circumference 
lashed with the furies of an eternal midnight storm ! 

We leave untouched this warring woi-ld of passions, and only 
glance at that celestial beam, which, of all the various princi])les 
implanted in the heart of man by nature's God. alone remains in 
the seeming similitude of its author, and biit partially perverted 
by the out-burst of heaven's vengeance beneath the tree of knowl- 
edge : We mean love — the noblest principle that crowns the 
grandeur and glory of Jehovah, and highest dAvells in the temple 
of tlie human soul. 

Love burns in the sun, smiles in the moon, and twinkles in every 
star : is voiced by the tides of the rolling ocean, and mingles in the 
floating clouds : is felt in the Avilds of solitude, and crowns the liills 
with a diadem of flowers: sighs in the breeze, whispers in the 
brook, sings in the gale, and tl)unders in the tempest. The whole 
expanse of nature is garnished with the brightness and beauties of 
living love. The love of God is as boundless as his creation, and 
as diffluent as the light of the meridian sun. It sent a Saviour 
down from the skies to redeem an alienated world from endless 
ruin. 

Love has linked all tlie millions of mankind together who have 



348 



GREER'S POEMS. 



lived in harmony. Where it has not been cherished by its posses- 
sors and watered by the Fountain of Life, individuals, and commu- 
nities, and nations, have seized the dagger, the sword or the cannon, 
and plunged forward with the wrath and fury of fiends, to tear out 
the hearts and spill the blood of their fellow-men. 

We have entered upon an interminable field, over which thought 
might range till the wheels of nature would cease to roll, and the 
dome, and columns, and architraves of the Universe would crum- 
ble with age, without ever contracting a hindrance to its flight, or 
meeting a limit to the boundless expanse. How much like an 
angel is man in his proper sphere, — exhaling fx'om his sainted spirit 
the fragrance of principles and desires that secure a blissful 
immortality, and take a deathless hold upon the throne of Jeho- 
vah ! But how like a being from the regions of the damned, when 
he turns his passions loose upon the high-way of dissipation ! 

Ride back in imagination along the stream of Time and take 
Antiquity by the ha,nd ; walk with her amid the lofty pyramids of 
Egypt, and view its congregated halls sparkling with diamonds and 
glittering with gems and gold ; perambulate the spacious temples 
of Greece, and gaze upon the harping hosts as they lift on high 
the Doric columns of the Roman Capitol ; pore over her Sibylline 
Oracles, and converse with her kings, her peasants, and her beg- 
gars ; or launch your thoughts away into the deep ocean of Futurity, 
and survey the countless multitudes who yet may throng the 
theatre of existence ; — and you will see that Love was, and is, and 
is to be, the only golden union of hearts, and the glorious medium 
of communion between earth and heaven . 

Man is a world within himself, and yet a brother to the worm 
he crushes beneath his foot. In him are typed the attributes of a 
God, and yet eternity were too short for him to create a single 
spear of grass. Now he kisses the dust in humility, and scarcely 
has he arisen from his knees ere he presumes to measure arms with 
Deity ; and while he is charmed with the beauties of a dew-drop he 
curses the omnipotent Author of creation. The very elements 
that preserve his life, when disarranged, have power to destroy it. 
One day he would meet death with as little concern as he would a 
shadow, and the next he would stipulate to endure the labor of 



GREER'S POEMS. 



349 



Sisyphus, and even grasp the rock to roll it up to the mountain- 
summit, if he could live forever on the earth. He sustains the 
parching thirst, and the ravenous hunger of a Tantalus, while he 
gropes his way along the shore of Life's sweet ocean, where figs 
and olives bend with clustering stores about his head. Though 
he be possessed of the penetration of Cleobulus, and have his mind 
stored with the wisdom of Solon, he can be deceived by the glance 
of an eye, and learn a lesson of vital importance from the bee. 

Man's greatest glory on earth is love, while he makes the phan- 
tom, gold, his god. Love is his proper sphere, — the essential 
element of his soul, — and is the richest boon that heaven has 
bequeathed to the pilgrims of earth; for, in the language of another, 
"Love is the eeligion of the Bible!" 



EVENING^ MEDITATIONS. 

What a beautiful world ! Every thing on which I look seems 
full of life, and all is harmony. The sun is sinking in his majesty 
behind the western hills, throwing a sea of fulgence over plain and 
mountain; and the lawn is richly laid with nature's carpet of 
green, sprinkled with flowers, and fanned by a fragrant breeze. 
Winter has returned to the regions of the snowy north. His 
bowlings have died away, and the warmer airs of Spring are float- 
ing over the world. Glorious evening! The birds are sporting 
among the budding branches, filling the atmosphere with their 
enchanting music, and a mellow murmur comes swelling up from 
the valley, where a crystal stream winds through willow hedges. 

How imagination expands at the grandeur of the scene before 
me, until I seem borne away from earth, to revel over the blue fields 
of space and range among the or])s of creation. And, indeed, how 
joyous would I feel this evening, had I wings like the sacred bird 
of liberty, that darts untiringly up through the realms of ether, 
and swoops at pleasure along the "upper deep," — I then would 



350 



U i; K E li • i i- O ii 3i ;= . 



mount nloft and scan the charms of nature's glorious works. I 
would bathe my plumage in the empyreal vacuum, roam along the 
golden escutcheonry of the skies, and prolong my theme through 
the emblazoned halls of imaginary felicity. My thoughts would 
skim the fringe of universal fields, and flutter athwart the upper 
dome of human dreams. 

But, surrounded with all tliis overwhelming grandeur, I pause in 
dreadful awe, and turn my wandering eyes away, still greater glories 
to behold. With retrospective gaze, I see Jehovah stoop from his 
throne eternal, arrayed in garb immaculate of living glory, bearing 
the attributes divine — Truth, Might, Benevolence, and Love — and 
in his self-existing power, hang the earth in darkling emptiness ; — 
a black, chaotic bulk, dangling in the yawn of vacant space. Au- 
spicious era! ''•Let there he hghf-^^ came glowing forth from his 
creative lips ; and an ocean of light, with a silent gush, burst through 
the primal darkness. As the armies of heaven leaned over the 
sapphire battlements of the New Jerusalem, they looked dowTi with 
admiration upon the stupendous architecture of the Infinite Mind. 
An acclamation of gladness went swelling from tongue to tongue, 
until the everlasting hills of the celestial world were shaken as with 
the thunders of a myriad trumpets, and the city was filled with 
flowing symphonies from harps unnumbered. Another world was 
born, and a new field of rendezvous for the angels was spread out 
on the map of creation. At the command of its Author the virgin 
sphere began to roll its solemn march around its central orb : and 
Time, the great clock-work of omnipotent mechanism, commenced 
to number years. It was a fragment broken ofl' from eternity, 
again to be restored to its original position at an appointed period. 
Its wheels may have nearly completed their I'equisite revolutions 
here; and the "mighty angel" may have the awful hammer drawn, 
to strike the ending blow, and swear that "time shall be no 
more !" 

When Light burst into the eternally unilluminated void, methinks 
the great Artificer, encompassed by seraphiraic legions, planted his 
foot upon the earth as the stool of his stupendous mechanism, and 
chained and riveted it in fraternal harmony with the numberless 
family of universal worlds. Then the " stars of morning " clustered 



GREER'S POEMS. 



351 



in the gallery of the second heavens, and over the new-created 
globe sung a hymn of adoration. 

When the gray cloak of evening was first thrown around the 
happy world, and all things Avere made, did not Jehovah, with 
Adam and Eve, sit down to meditate, and hear gay Philomel 
warble in the blossomy bowers, and view the twinkling myriads 
bestudding the far up canopy of his unencorapassed universe 1 
When the earth was wheeling her mighty revolutions on the won- 
drous axle of the Almighty's framing, without a jar or clash mid 
circumvolving worlds, sweeping their awful flights through the 
territory of immensity, and the modest flush of morning tipped 
the orient mountain tops; when Eden's floral groves, tinctured 
with ambrosial perfumery new from the stores of glory, almost 
swam in the melody of the feathered multitudes; when the lark 
leaped from the festooned rose-beds, and shook his pinions aloft in 
the odor-raantled range that spanned the enameled garden; when 
the linnet, eddying in the savory atmosphere, perched atop the 
flowery spray that hung engemmed with the honey-dews of ely- 
sium; when the eagle, soaring aloft to fasten his eyes on the rising 
sun, brushed the yellow rays that streamed afar from east to west, 
with his triumphant wings ; when all living creatures began to stir 
from their peaceful slumbers to shout a hallelujah of praise;— did 
not God arise from His repose, to behold the grandeur and magni- 
ficence of his new creation? Grasping in his mind the grand 
machinery, he blest it, and pronounced it "good." A perfect 
world, adorned with the drapery of Paradise, lay at his feet, and 
the heaven of heavens spread before his all-seeing vision. He 
then ascended to his magisterial throne, leaving an infinitessimal 
beam of his nature in the soul of man to radiate and exalt his 
intellect, and to win him to aspirations after purer scenes of enjoy- 
ment than this lower terra firma could impart. 

Thou<'-h heaven descended and kissed the earth;' though God, 
the creator of all thhigs, walked in person side by side with the 
immortal beings he had made : though the trees were laden with 
fruit, and the fields were overspread with a bounteous harvest ; 
though the seasons rolled their rounds, and the sun performed his 
diurnal revolutions ;— yet Man, the aspiring worm, with free voli- 



352 



GREEK'S POEMS. 



tion, forfeited the favor of his God, and gloomed his moral sky 
Avith clouds of sin and bitter shame. Oh ! that fall — it was so 
dtcp and terrible that it crushed from iiis sonl the image of his 
Maker, put out the eyes of his intellect, and sent him groping his 
way through briers and thorns to the lonely sepulchre of mortality ! 
That was a fearful plunge far into the whirlpool of ruin, where, 
with voluntary power, he bound himself with the clanking fetters 
of misery and wo. 

When I contemplate what man was, when God fashioned him 
in his own likeness, and personally deputed him to act as "lord 
over all the earth," and then behold him fall, and incur the dis- 
pleasui-e of heaven — incur the hereditary curse under which we 
now groan — 1 pause and tremble, filled with emotions that cannot 
be uttered. Dark are the sorrows that overshadow my heart, and 
deep are the sighs that heave my bosom. Where arc the eyes that 
have not wept, or the soul that shudders not, in view of such a 
scene? Once happy man ; but oh, how fallen, how polluted, how 
debased ! What a frivolous temptation allured the Godlike mon- 
arch into a breach of duty ! Ah ! see the delusive serpent winding 
its venomous folds among the branches of the tree and decoying the 
sovereign of earth. How that reptile twines, at the present day, 
through every attribute of ovr souls, poisons every thought, and 
pierces us at last with his fatal sting — even the sting of death ! 
The wickedness of man has made this world a wilderness, the next 
door to which is a stormy hell, inhabited by countless spirits 
damned. Oh, man ! poor, ulcerated, groveling, dying creature — 
how he aspires to be great in his own power, and wise in borrowed 
wisdom! While he staggers beneath a mountain load of guilt, 
and is burthened with the awful manacles of the piison-house of 
rebellion, he sneers at the holy mandates of heaven and defies the 
unmuzzled thunders of Jove, who, by one breath from his eternal 
mouth, could blast the world, and drive the universe into non-exist- 
ence! 



I 



{ 



GREER'S POEMS. 353 



Ucrses, 

INSCRIBED TO ROBERT W. & ANNA M. JONES, ON THE DEATH 
OF THEIR LITTLE DAUGHTER OLEVIA. 

How suddenly withered that beautiful flower 

That bloomed on your bosoms so gay ! 
The autumn of death, in its mystical power, 
Blew o'er it a breeze, and it drooped in an hour, 

And passed from your presence away. 

Though lovelier far than the rose in its bloom, 

Thoxigh fostered by kindness and love, 
'Twas cropped by the reaper and laid in the tomb, 
Till the harvest of flowers are all gathered home 
To the bosom of Jesus above. 

You mourn for its death — for its absence you weep — • 

But why are your tears for it shed 1 
Wild winter may howl, and his storms o'er it sweep, 
Its slumbers are quiet, and sweet is its sleep, 

Though lonely and cold is its bed. 

A little while longer, and close by its side 

Your bodies in silence shall lie ; 
Your spirits shall hasten o'er Jordan's dark tide, 
With a convoy of angels your vessel to guide. 

And bear you away to the sky : 

And there on the breast of the Saviour, in heaven, 

With trials and sorrowing- done, 
Your cherub again to your arms shall be given, 
And never more from you T)y death to be riven 

While ages imceasing roll on ! 

Ee2 



a64 



GREER'S POEMS, 

That m&TTient was grievous when round her ye drew. 

To liid her a mournful farewell ; 
Yc parted ! — but scarcely has fled your adieu, 
Till again you shall m.ect her, your love to reiiew^ 

And with her etevnallv dwell! 



HONOR. 

Tlie earth is a magnificent theatre, hung in the midst of an illim-^ 
itable void, and rolled by the linger of God around a circuit of 
five hundred and seventy millions of miles, in the space of a single 
year. It is bounded on every side by a beautiful cerulean Avail, 
where time has never struck his fang, nor storms its primal gloss 
defaced. It is roofed with a wonderful canopy of azure, adorned 
with a chandelier of suns and moons and stars, and girdled by a 
galaxy of eternal grandeur ! 

Men have been acting on its stage, and playing scenes in its 
mysterious drama, for six thousand years. — until one hundred and 
fifty generations have sunk beneath the surge of destiny, and found 
a common tomb in the bosom of earth. If we return to the 
fountain of human existence, and let our minds come floating back 
over the scroll of departed years : take a general survey of the 
world, and look upon the multitudes of mankind as they rose and 
sunk throughout its dominions, we shall see that each seems to 
have struggled with Achillian energy, to mount above all his pre- 
decessors and coadjutors, and claim the highest encomiums of his 
nation. 

And thus it h.ns been, that almost every man in the wide range 
of civilization has. and still does, aspire to eminence and honor. 
Man will risk his property, his happiness, and even sacrifice life 
itself, to attract the public attention, wear the laurel wreaths of 
renown, and have it said he has done a noble or a daring deed, 
XJnnumbcred thousands have toiled incessantly from their first 



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355 



appearance in public life, until their heads were bowed with strug- 
glinc^ and their face? withered with age, to have their names em- 
blazoned high on the cscutheonry of immortality; but, in an 
unexpected moment, they fell from their foundationless position, 
disappeared beyond the horizon of life, and were engulfed forever 
in the ocean of forgetfulness. Death has long swept over the 
world on wintry pinions, blighting the flowery prospects of the 
capricious; hearsing into eternity the whimsical aspirants to honor, 
and crushing their airy anticipations into nonentity, — not leaving 
an impression visible on all the broad records of time, that they 
ever had an existence in the world. 

Some have thrown around their hearts a robe of steel, and burn- 
ing with the fires of an awful ambition, rode rough shod through 
the regions of peace and harmony, startling the sleeper from his 
dreams and the yeoman from his toils, and crushing the life-spark 
from myriads of bosoms beneath their ruthless tread. And, as 
they hacked asunder the bleeding breasts of their victims, and 
onward dashed through tides of gore, their shouts, like trumpet- 
tones, were heard to roll the sound, — " Our names are to be inscribed 
on the banner of im.mortality ; and though we pave our way with 
human skulls, and sail on floods of widows' tears, and are deafened 
with lovers' shrieks and orphans' cries, we cannot stop until our 
anticipations are throned in reality!"' Deluded mortals! such 
honor, at best, is but a delirious dream — an ignus fatuus flickering 
in tlie atmosphere of contagion — an empty bubble floating on the 
wild waters of the ambitious brain. One breath from the lips of 
Justice can burst and obliterate it forever, leaving the silly dreamer 
bewildered on the strand of irrecoverable ruin. The summit of 
fame can be obtained. But he who climbs the height by bloody 
deeds, h^s only ascended it like JEgeus of old upon the lofty cliiF, 
to take a fearful plunge into the deep below. He falls like a 
wounded bird from his imaginary fabric, and makes most piteous 
flutterings as he goes down unmoiii'ncd into the abyss of oblivion. 
Oh, deceptihle worm ! to tamper thus with his soul's eternal interest ; 
to try to set a bound to civilization, darken the light of religion, 
destroy morality, and violate virtue, in order to obtain the vacant 
appellation of — "An honorable man!" Give ear to the thunders 



356 



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of fate, that mock at thy delirium, and shall keenly howl at thy 
everlasting destruction ! 

While millions, in this way, have been lost to the sight and 
remembrance of a literary and scientific world, others have 
immortalized their names by harnessing death to the chariot of 
war, and rushing over the habitable globe, determined to perpetrate 
a universal slaughter. In some instances they have acted as though 
the wild-fires of the Stygian furnace were let loose upon the maga- 
zines of their souls, — driving life, liberty, love and order, from the 
world, and strewing it over with death, tyranny, fear and confusion ! 

Look at Alexander the. Great : after having grasped the world 
in his hands dripping with the blood of millions ; — he, who had 
but to speak, and tlie nations of the earth trembled at the sound ; — 
who, when he turned his eyes, the world witnessed their dazzling 
glance; — who bound in mute subjection at his feet the mighty and 
the lion-hearted who opposed him ; — he who cut the throats of 
kings, and filched the cofi'crs of principalities; tore the garland 
from victor's brow, and spurned a generation of starving orphans 
from the store-house of abundance ; — he, who wrapped the earth 
in sheets of gore, and flung his bloody banner' athwart the blush- 
ing skies : — knowing that lie had not another world to conquer, 
and finding that he had widely missed the part of true honor, 
bowed his head in disappointment and wept a flood of tears. 

See the sanguinary Cajsar, whose despotic ambition scattered 
consternation and death throughout the oriental hemisphere, and 
spread a moral epidemic almost as wide as the poles. The infec- 
tious immorality emanating from his fame-burning heart, infused 
vice, in all its degrees, throughout the century in which he lived. 
With such inhuman seconds and prompters as Crebonius Curio, 
Marcus Antonius, and Paulius Emilius, and a host of other 
debauchees, patricians, and dissipated outlaws, he traveled the road 
to immortality and imaginary honor ; and while he sat aloft on 
the throne of his power, and cast his eyes around to the farthest 
horizon of his dominion, he beheld nothing but one promiscuous 
mass of ruin, misery, and disorder, crimsoned with the blood he 
had spilled. With such a life-guard as Clodius, who violated the 
Bona Dea — one of the most illustrious specimens of devildom — 



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357 



he lounged on the thorny cushion of fame, and tossed his venomed 
daggers through many an innocent bosom, in order to gratify his 
insatiate ambition. 

Behold the stern-browed Napoleon, at whose command kings 
were hurled from their thrones — cities vanished like vapors in the 
wild sweep of the hurricane — the magazines of nations thundered 
at his touch — empires lay prostrate at the brandish of his sword — 
nature's snow-enshrouded battlements, that loomed like insur- 
mountable barriers to the vision, pillowing their heads on the stor- 
my skies, acknowledged his matchless energy — and all mankind, 
turning Avith blanched cheeks and awe-struck gaze, seemed to yield 
for a season to the superiority of his genius. But see the giant 
captain withering down by the sultry blaze of his own ambition 
and the envy of the cruel mob that made him captive, and dying a 
lonely exile on the rocks of St. Helena, without the tear of love 
or pity to moisten his pillow, or tie hand of a beautiful Josephine 
to wipe the death-damp from his pallid brow! Miserable man! 
Horrible monster, assassin, robber, butcher! where is the blood of 
the millions hurried by thee into another world? The lapse of 
centuries cannot erase the crimson stain from thy skirts ; and we 
fear that everlasting ages shall roll across thy guilty spirit, while 
the vengeful lightnings of Almighty God shall never cease to 
blast it to eternal withering ! But thou art gone, and the world 
now moves on as though thou hadst never been, except to look 
back with horror over the murderous works of thy hands. 

Can true honor be ascribed to such characters as these? No! 
They lived tyrannical conquerors, and died worshijiing at the gory 
shrine of ambition. Lawless generalissimoes ! bribed by the king 
of darkness to ferment the earth with tumult, and leaven the lump 
of mankind with carnage, blood and ruin. Iniquitous captains 
and engineers! speeding onward the sooty war-car of hell, to 
scatter far and wide the fire-brands of Lucifer, kindle a flame of 
mutiny in every arena of society, and convert the world into one 
black amphitheatre of crime, devastation and death ! If any good 
has ever accrued to man by the wars they produced and commanded, 
it was contrary to their motives ; for honor was their importunity, 
and fame and immortal renown their end in view. What a long, 



358 



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dark catalogue of sins must have been recorded against them in 
the book of God's remembrance ! 

Darkness hangs like a cloud of mourning over the years of their 
marcli among men. Kingdoms were trampled down and buried 
in a day, dynasties Avere palsied at their glance, and moral govern- 
ment chased from their contaminating presence. No tongue hath 
ever told the sorrows of their victims — no pen recorded their 
miseries — ^no eye beheld the extent of their sufferings — no ear 
withstood their groans, — nor hand relieved their wants. While 
these wholesale murderers stalked abioad, heaven looked on with 
frowns and blushes — earth raged, trembled, and mourned — hell 
more fiercely tossed its weltering waves of fire, and rolled a deeper 
groan among her cells ! Fling back the curtain of hereditary par- 
tiality to war, look out with a clear vision upon the Avorld, and tell 
us what it is that brings earth and hell so near as the raging hosts 
of a battle-field ? 

Whenever a man sets out in the Avorld for the sole purpose of 
accumulating honors to himself, he almost invariably fails in the 
undertaking, and brings down upon his head the frowns of his 
fellowmcn and the anathemas of heaveii. He mounts the puny 
mole-hill of self-assurance, and, Avitli a supercilious eye, looks 
down upon his bret'uren as creatures unworthy' of his notice ; and 
tlien, turning his glance upward, he descries the salubrious peak of 
immortality as a v/edge towering deep into the heavens, clothed 
with laurels that wave and beckon him to ascend and revel in their 
fragrant umbrage. His bosom begins to burn for its imaginary 
glories. He starts with straining nerves and scrambles up the rug- 
ged bluff, until his heated fancy leads him enraptured away amid 
its visionery beauties : and then, how ambition bloats his soul to 
bursting nigh, while anxious pinions buoy him lightly fluttering on ! 
But lo ! when he thinks he is about to perch upon the pinnacle and 
blow an eternal peal from tlie unblown trumpet of victory, he loses 
his airy hold, and topples — tumbles down into the yawning gulf 
of oblivion. 

How the youthful heart sometimes becomes enchanted and 
almost delirious at the plaudits of the populace, overleaps tlie line 
of rectitude, and finallv dashes down to destruction ! If the vouths 



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359 



of the present generation would only exert their talents in doing 
good ; if they would but strive to act with strict morality, and let 
their only motives be the spreading and inculcation of truth and 
useful knowledge throughout the various spheres in which they act 
what a happy world of youths would we behold '.—all mingling, 
together as the hymning waters of the ocean mingle, or as the 
rays of the sun combine to form an universal flame! But, 
instead of this heaven-approved employment, how many waste 
their golden years in giddy gyrations on the stage of existence! 
Oh, ye idle, thoughtless youths! why abandon the implements 
t hat heaven has awarded you to work for the good of yom- fellow- 
men and to secure eternal life to yourselves, and go drudging down 
to the realities of an awful future, with the sin of mis-spent time 
engraved upon your souls 1 

True honor, as we have already seen, is not obtained by^ieeds of 
rapine and slaughter, or in feats and excursions of imaginary bliss ; 
but it is won in the dissemination of truth, the extension of moral- 
ity, and the preservation of virtue. We have scores of sterling 
examples set before us in the world for imitation, which tower to 
our visions like mountains of gold. Shall we return to the ages 
of antiquity to find them ^ Shall we go to Epaminondas, Themis- 
tocles, Aristides, Leonidas, Thermopyla; or Sparta? No!— 
Thanks be to Heaven, we have examples worthy of imitation in 
our own beloved country. Greece and Rome had their heroes, 
philosophers and statesmen— their Demosthenes, Cicero, Socrates 
and Plato,— their Caisar, Scipio, iEschines and Hannibal,— but we 
have a Washington, the l>rilliance of whose character outshines 
the most illustrious sons of antiquity, and stimulates the present 
age to imitate him, the model political redeemer of mankind from 
ignorance, superstition, and the yoke of bondage. He attained 
the summit of true honor, and waved the palm of victory over 
tyrants, despots and demagogues. And there, shining in his phil- 
anthropic triumph, like the unclouded sun in his glory, he cheered 
and energized the nation that rallied at his feet. In one hand he 
held out the principles of freedom to all mankind, and in the 
other the glowing torch of liberty, that burned— still burns— and 
must ever burn on, until it consumes the last vestige of despotism, 
and fires the world with Independence. 



360 



GREER'S POEMS. 



Tremendous marshal! Kings looked on him abashed, and 
tyrants trembled at his name. When he smiled, a nation rejoiced ; 
when he wept, a people mourned : and when he called to arms, a 
continent sprang forth to obey. Thrice happy man ! Around his 
noble brow were laurels wreathed and roses twined ; and on his 
cheek the lovely daugliters of America imprinted their fondest 
kisses, and wove into his silvery locks the sweetest flowers of their 
country's sunny hills. When death cut him down, like a towering 
monument he fell: a nation burst into tears, as the mournful 
tidings that he had fallen ran like electricity from ocean to ocean ; 
and angels bore him aloft from eaith to tiie bosom of his father, 
God. If he had but nodded his head at the request of a people, 
they would have almost unanimously placed upon it a crown, 
reared liim on a throne, and pronounced him sovereign of his 
country) but that was not his aim: he labored for the well-being 
of his national family, and looked down upon them from his 
majestic height with all the tender emotions of parental love. His 
object was freedom — ^his labors philanthropic — ^his name is garlan- 
ded with the laurels of immortal Iionor ! 

We see men riding forth in the tempest of chance and uncer- 
tainty across the troubled ocean of existence, to festoon their 
names with empty honors, until they find themselves rocking on 
the last wave of life that is to heave them out upon the shoreless 
sea of eternity ; and, as they are about to plunge into the awful 
expanse, they cast a despairing look back along their crooked 
course over the swelling surges of dissipation, and see they have 
been deluded, and that their names with themselves are dark with 
infamy, and must be forever erased from the records of time and 
action. 

Jiet us do our duty in life, and thereby secure the approbation of 
God: consequently, the true honor of man will follow us till we 
die ; and shall encircle our names in imperishable greenness down 
through the flight of years, and the onward roll of ages ! 



GREER'S POEMS. 



UNIVERSAL LOVE. 



361 



Love is the atmosphere of heaven, and the sun-light of earth. 
It is the crowning attribute of Jehovah, the theme of angels, and 
the glory of pilgrim man. 

Love originated — or, it truly never had an origin, — for, Eteraity 
bloomed with its intense effulgence in distance past beyond the 
farthest reach of thought. It is commensurate with the existence 
of God himself; for it glowed in his bosom and illumined the 
heaven of heavens, before illimitable space was spangled over 
with shining orbs and far-revolving worlds ; or ere the blue dome 
of immensity echoed the music of exulting stars, and flushed afar 
with the genial fires of the infant sun. 

Love is the element of Eeligion, — the perennial pathway to the 
bowers of the upper Eden — and the hallowed fruit that clusters in 
exhaustless profusion on the Tree of Life. The "pure river of 
water" that rolls its crystal floods through the wide-spreading 
lawns and amaranthine colonnades of heaven, is but a liquid tide 
of Love, forever gushing from beneath the dazzling throne of 
Omnipotence. Angels driuk it with rapture, and hold adoring 
festivals at its very fountain-head ! Its boundless beauties shone 
with ample lustre over the garden of Eden, when earth, with all 
her sporting swarms of new-made beings, was nourished and 
bathed in the copious down-pourings of a tributary of tlie crystal 
river of Elysium. It conducts the Christian through the " green 
pastures " and by the " still waters " of happiness in life, makes 
soft his dying pillow, and nerves his soul to brave old Jordan's 
rolling billows. 

Love is a golden ocean of glory, whose softly swelling tides are 
impeded by no barrier, and whose pellucid ripples murmur not 
upon any shore, except the rocky waste of the human heart. The 
Bible is but a transcript of the laws of eternal love — a sparkling 
jewel from the treasury of God — a sun that has risen to irradiate 
the moral world and set no more forever — a translucent tear, drop- 
ped in pitying love from the eye of the Son of God — the '• home- 
book of heaven, and the school-book of earth ! " 

if 



362 



GREER'S POEMS. 



Behold the towering summit of Mount Sinai enveloped in 
circling volumes of smoke, and crowned with threatening clouds 
of darkness ! See it belted with racing streams of lightning, and 
trembling to its inner core with hurtling peals of thunder. A 
trumpet sends its thrilling voice down over the desert, and pours 
its echoes to the distant mountains that lean their heads on the 
cold, clastic bosom of ether. The firmament assumes a strange, 
unearthly hue ; and the lofty trees on the far-reaching wilderness 
beneath, are tinged with wondrous glares of light, reflected from 
the fire-girdled mountain. The eagle, whose home is among the 
untrodden crags, utters a piercing scream of affright, and darts 
away for some secret ledge, remote on a distant peak ; while the 
cattle, grazing upon the hills, start wildly up and rush in fury from 
the scene. The mountain smokes like a burning furnace, breathing 
black waves of vapor up to the lurid canopy ; and, on this awful 
throne of nature, wrapped in frowning splendor, sits the King of 
kings ! He beckons Moses up to his majestic seat. The children 
of Israel stand afar off, transfixed in dreadful silence amid their 
lightning-painted tents sprinkled over the wilderness. Hark ! hear 
ye the mighty voice tliat speaks aloud above the rumbling thunders ? 
" Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and thy 
neighbor as thyself" What a declaration ! What a command to 
the children of men ! What a display of matchless power ! Was 
there ever a move comprehensive sentence spoken in heaven or on 
earth ? It bears with equal force on every human heart through 
all time. Justice, mercy and truth, are here commingled in the 
sweet embrace, and lote supremely crowns them all. Time, by 
the sway of his deathly scythe, can never clip its immortal bloom 
— ^man cannot becloud its broad halls of glory — ^hell can never 
adulterate its unblemished purity, — its living purity, that gives 
Religion a heart, and plants the flowers of eternal verdure in the 
vagrant soul of man. 

Love hung out the star of Bethlehem, that guided the wise men 
of the east over the hills and plains of Judea, to where the Virgin 
Mary presented the infant Emmanuel to the gaze of a wondering 
world — Emmanuel, whose birth and sinless career rolled back the 
brooding darkness of a long and orbless moral night ; — and love 



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363 



constrained him to wear a crown of thorns and bear the burthen- 
some cross up Calvarjr's rugged steeps. It prompted and cheered 
him as he submitted his tortured body to his scoffing executioners 
to be nailed to the tree, where he suffered the awful death that 
blushed the sun in darkness, and shattered the solid rocks asunder 
through nature's trembling bounds,— the death that burst the very 
tombs asunder, and resurrectionized the dead to living bloom. 
What hour so solemn, awful and sublime as that, when the blood 
of a Saviour was spilt to redeem a lost and ruined world 1 What 
Love like that of an expiring God 1 When I view him bowing 
his head, and hear him crying with a voice that shook creation, and 
spread a terrible silence throughout the courts of heaven, " It is 
Jinished;'' when I try to grasp the overwhelming grandeur and 
astounding cruelties of that hour, my imagination, droops its 
pinions, fancy shrinks appalled, and my heart, enravished at the 
moral glory of the scene, pours forth an involuntary gush of adora- 
tion. As he expired "men scoffed, hell howled, and the world 
above let fall a tear ! " And though he was buried, he triumphed 
over the grave, and ascended to heaven, encompassed round about 
by a cloud of love and angels,— a cloud, the ineffable beauty of 
which, beamed with magnificent sublimity to the fiivored few who 
witnessed the scene. 

The ebbings and flowings of Jehovah's shoreless sea of love 
softly wash the gold-enameled fields of celestial light, and sweep in 
beatific grandeur amid the " roll of orbs and the march of worlds ! " 
Where suns and moons their shining circles run, and walk the stars 
along their glowing paths, the radiant sea has poured its living 
tides, till even blighted, beggared earth has felt its flow. There 
was a period when time was unborn from the womb of Eternity, 
—ere the "Spirit of God moved upon the waters,'' and when 
unbroken " darkness covered the face of the deep." The material 
world lay, like a stupendous heap of ruins, in the thick-clouded 
centre of sunless space. As yet, eternal night enwrapped the 
darkling sphere. Angels' pinions had never fanned the dismal 
void. " Heaven was everywhere, save in the far-oflf chaos, where 
matter warred with opposite and discordant principles, making 
jargon that might have been wafted on the car of heaven in some 



;64 



GREER'S POEMS. 



pause of song. God — the Jehovah — looked upon the ruinous space, 
planted his compass at the foot of tlie throne, and swept its 
unmeasured circle farther than thought had power to travel. The 
periphery lay like a faint line of light on the wasteful sea of matter ! " 
He gathered up the massive chaos and rounded it into a magnificent 
globe peopled its elements with living creatures, let forth a gorgeous 
burst of sun-light upon its teeming hemispheres, and sent it circling 
away through trackless space, — a beauteous sister world, — among 
ten thousand glowing groups ! Time was its swaddling band, and 
man its love-throned lord. 

Love unfurled the Gospel banner over the domes and palaces of 
ancient Jerusalem, that soon shall float in splendid triumph over 
benighted millions, whose songs of emancipation from heathen 
darkness shall be wafted in clouds of incense up to the throne of 
Deity. What topic so full of delight 1 What subject so big with 
inspiration ? What scene so abounding in beautiful pictures ? I 
grasp one now. In comparison with it, earth, with all her unfold- 
ding decorations, shrinks into cold monotony. I gaze to the wide 
expanded regions of everlasting felicity. " Death's spectral char- 
iot has never been seen on those sun-bright hills," I see unnum- 
bered hosts in snow-white raiments marching over the flowery 
realms of glory. Their robes are lightly waving in the living 
breeze that floats from the shining heights that column the " crys- 
tal river," and through the streets of the " celestial city." How 
palpable and how sublime the picture ! My soul is all on fire, as 
my vision drinks in the realities of a world, where every shade is 
banished by the fullness of an immortal existence ! Whichever 
way I throw my eyes athwart the illimitable plains, and over the 
floral mountains, I behold innumerable millions who have been 
redeemed by Love Divine. Their harps and cymbals glitter in 
the dazzling light of the " Sun of Righteousness," Heaven is a 
boundless sea of melody, for they carol one eternal hymn of rap- 
ture— '' Hallelujah! God 18 LOVE!" 



OCT 13 1945 



